Harry Potter and the Pawn of the Past
by negasong
Summary: It is our choices Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities. What if Tom Riddle never had a choice? How will he react when he finds out that he is a pawn in someone else's chess game? Does it matter to Harry? 7th yr fic HBP compliant
1. Fugitives

A misty fog held low to the ground, slightly obscuring the rows of abandoned Muggle warehouses that lined the darkened silent streets. This was not the kind of area one would normally be found in at this time of night unless one was looking to score heroin, or get killed... or both. The faint pops that broke the yawning silence threatening to swallow the neighborhood augured the appearance of two figures dressed in black cloaks and hoods.

The taller of the two figures, Severus Snape, pulled Draco Malfoy down into a defensive posture and put his finger to his lips, gesturing for quiet. He looked around for a few minutes as if attempting to sense the presence of someone or something. When at long last he appeared satisfied that they were alone, he gestured for Draco to follow him. Staying low to the ground, they wound their way along the cracked pavement littered with needles, broken whiskey bottles, and used condoms that snaked its way among the darkened warehouses. Snape paused again, looking to his left. When he was satisfied that there was no one ahead of them, he motioned for Draco to follow him as he slunk quietly up the alleyway.

The sound of a bottle gently hitting the pavement caused Snape to stop suddenly and tense up. He forcefully stuck his arm out behind him to stop Draco from moving any further, but the other, not ready for it, toppled over backwards.

"Oos 'at?" asked a slurred voice from the darkness. "Ian, 'at you?" The voice was reedy and cracked from years of self abuse. Snape glared at Draco, who was still in the midst of getting back on his feet, as if he could have murdered him right then and there. Snape remained silent, waiting for the voice to sound again so that he could track its exact location. "Oi! Ian! You back? You got the goods?" Slowly and silently, Snape drew his wand from the folds of his cloak, aimed it at the place where the voice was emanating from and thought to himself "_Obliviate_!"

A jet of light flew from his wand down the alley, followed by a feeble grunt and then the dull thud of flesh hitting pavement. Snape let out a breath and then snapped his head towards his former student. "What the hell is wrong with you, Draco?" he hissed under his breath. "You're not making it very easy for me to save your ass." Draco glared at his former Head of House. "You don't want me to fall down, then don't shove me," he hissed back. Snape drew a slow breath as the urge to slap the arrogant little bastard welled up inside him. After a moment, he composed himself and said quietly, "Just keep close and keep quiet." They continued to snake down the alleyway, passing the junkie, now unconscious on the pavement. "_Probably did him a favor,_" Snape thought to himself. "_When he wakes, he won't even remember he's an addict._". When they finally came to a halt in front of a rather old, weather beaten ad for some brand of Muggle toothpaste, he drew his wand and tapped the toothy grin in the advert and a door materialized. "In," ordered Snape, "quickly."

Once they were both inside, Snape immediately closed the door, which vanished as soon as it was sealed. Raising his wand, he muttered "_Muffliato,_" followed by "_Lumos._" Draco had to stifle a gag as the foul stench of rotting rat carcasses hit his nose. He looked around in disgust at the grafittied, dilapidated brick warehouse he now found himself in and sneered at Snape. "What kind of filthy Muggle shithole have you brought me to?" Before Draco could react, Snape replied with the back of his hand to Draco's face. Malfoy's head snapped back, and when his nose began to bleed, Snape looked as if he realized that he had hit the boy a little harder than he had intended. Draco flinched as Snape drew his wand and pointed it at his nose. "Hold still Draco, I need to stop the bleeding." He reluctantly obeyed as his former potions master uttered, "_Episkey._" The bleeding immediately stopped, but that didn't stop Draco from staring at his former teacher in utter shock. Wiping the residue of blood from his face with the sleeve of his robe, he eyed Snape icily. "When my father hears about this-"

"I didn't mean to strike you Draco, but you must understand the severity of the situation. Now is not the time for you to talk. If you want to stay alive you must listen to me and do everything I say. Understood?" Draco gave his former potions master a glare of deep loathing before nodding sullenly. His eyes followed Snape as the potions master glided over to an old breaker box and flipped a switch, which bathed the room in harsh fluorescent light.

Draco eyes narrowed to a squint at the unexpected flood of light. "What are you doing? Someone will see us!" he hissed. Snape sighed at him, and as if speaking to a three year old, said, "Look around you Draco. Do you see any windows?" Malfoy knew the answer without even looking around, and merely shook his head. "Now, for the second time this evening, I beg of you, Shut up and do as I say!"

Snape conjured two chairs in the middle of the room. "Sit down," he ordered. Draco sat on the hard wooden chair across from Snape, glaring at him. The potions master was treating him like a petulant child and he resented him for it.

"The Dark Lord will be very displeased with you, Draco, and there is nothing I can do to change that. You failed in your task, and for that you will be punished."

"But I got them into Hogwarts... I didn't fail completely," he protested lamely, knowing deep down that Voldemort wouldn't give a rat's ass.

"This is true," muttered Snape, "...which is why he won't kill you." Draco's heart leapt with hope.

"You have proven yourself to be at least somewhat resourceful, and it is my opinion that he never expected you to succeed in the first place. He is, however, extremely angry at your father – you must know that. Lucius's actions have cost the Dark Lord dearly and he feels that you must repay the debt owed to him by your family for your father's mistakes. Your last minute change of heart will not help matters"

Draco growled as he bolted up from his seat, his face inches away from Snape's. "I had him! I was going to kill him! I would have succeeded if you hadn't interfered! And now I'm going to be punished? Because you interfered?" "_Merlin's balls_!" he thought to himself, "_now I do feel like a petulant child._"

Snape fixed him with an icy gaze, and seemingly unfazed, wiped the flecks of spit off of his face. "You had no intentions of killing him, Draco. You are lying to me and to yourself. And I tell you now, if you try to perpetrate that lie on the Dark Lord, you will wish you had never been born." Draco's eyes looked down towards the ground as he sunk back into his chair.

He could feel his chest constricting and his face becoming hot. "_Control yourself Draco_!_ You will NOT let him see you cry_!" Fixing his eyes on the cold cement floor, he managed to croak, "So what happens now; what do I do?"

Snape grabbed his face and yanked it upward until their eyes were locked. He had never seen Snape look so intense and fierce in his life – and that was saying something after what he had witnessed mere hours ago when that snotty blood traitor Potter had called him a coward. "You will tell him the truth. He will know the truth either way; he may already know what happened. You will answer his questions directly and without embellishment, presenting only the facts. You will show no fear or any emotion at all. When he punishes you, you will not cry out or beg for forgiveness, and when he is done, you will thank him for being merciful."

Draco felt his stomach rising into his throat. Resisting the urge to vomit, he focused on his hands, trying desperately to still them. Draco's mind was racing, searching for a loophole, any way he could escape what he knew would soon come. He knew that the search was futile and mocked himself for trying. There was a long silence before Draco choked out, "What will he do to me?"

Snape stared fixedly into Draco's eyes for a moment and then let out a tiny sigh. "The Dark Lord seems to prefer the Cruciatus Curse in these instances." Draco shut his eyes and silently put his head in his hands. He had already seen the effects of that particular curse when he had used it, and he didn't have a thousandth of Voldemort's power. "When the curse hits you," Snape continued, "use Occlumency as best you can. It will not save you from the pain, but it will... dull it somewhat."

Draco, looking at the ground, noticed that his hands were trembling even worse than before. He finally gave up on the foolish notion of trying to steady them. "Surely you could talk to him sir, you're his favorite, you could..."

Snape held his hand up. "The Dark Lord will not be convinced otherwise, nor am I stupid enough to attempt it. I have already prepared myself to receive the same punishment as you for disobeying him. He will no doubt punish Narcissa as well."

"My mother had nothing to do with this!" Draco roared.

"Your mother had everything to do with this! She made me take an Unbreakable Vow. She made me swear that if you couldn't kill Dumbledore, I would finish the job for you, and your aunt Bellatrix was the bonder. You failed in your task, and the three of us blatantly disobeyed him. He will punish us all for our insolence."

The fear of Voldemort's wrath dissolved for a moment as the thought of protecting his mother came to the fore of his consciousness. "You could have refused. She didn't make you do anything."

"Do you think so, Draco? Do you think I could have refused her when she and Lucius are the closest thing I have to a family? Could I have refused to protect the closest thing I have to a nephew?" Draco looked up at him wide eyed, not quite believing what he had just heard. "Yes Draco, believe it or not, I care about your well being."

"What about her well being? What will he do to her?"

"Your mother will receive the same punishment as us all, Draco. She has lived through the Cruciatus Curse before, she will live through it again. We must go now; the Dark lord is expecting us, and if we are late it will only make matters worse. Are you ready?" Draco steeled himself and nodded.

OOOOOOOOOOO

In the damp castle dungeon, Voldemort was pacing impatiently in front of the semicircle of Death Eaters standing before him. "It seems that Christmas has come early this year my friends! Dumbledore murdered within Hogwarts' own walls – what better news could I hope for? And yet, I confess myself to be disappointed that the ones responsible for this great deed have not yet seen fit to celebrate with us." Fenrir Greyback stifled a snort. Being one of the few Death Eaters at Hogwarts a few hours ago, he was also one of the few who understood what Voldemort actually meant by "celebrate," and as far as he was concerned, he couldn't wait for the "celebration" to begin.

As if on cue, a door opened and Wormtail, unconsciously rubbing the silver fingers of his left hand as he shifted nervously up to his master announced, "Severus and the Malfoy boy have arrived, my lord."

"Well, see them in Wormtail, see them in! The guests of honor should not be kept waiting." Wormtail scurried off to the iron banded door through which he had emerged, and a moment later, scurried back through, followed by Draco and Snape, who took their positions among the circle of Death Eaters.

"Ah, here they are finally. The men of the hour! But why the delay Severus? Did you encounter a problem when leaving the school?"

"No my lord, I simply thought it prudent to take extra precautions in case we were being followed by members of the Order of the Phoenix." Had Draco not been wearing a hood and mask, Voldemort would have instantly seen his eyes bulge and his mouth drop open at the potion master's bold faced lie.

"So am I to assume that everything went according to plan?" Voldemort's eyes were locked on Snape's, practically daring the man to utter a falsehood.

Snape's countenance remained completely unreadable. "...No, my lord. There were certain... difficulties, but the end result was the same. Albus Dumbledore is dead."

Draco knew that Snape was going to bat for him in the only way the man could without ensuring his own death sentence, but he also knew that it was an utterly futile effort.

"No, sadly, Severus, everything did not go according to plan. But perhaps I should ask young Malfoy exactly what went wrong, seeing as it was his task to complete." Voldemort shifted his gaze to Draco and motioned him forward. Taking a deep breath, Malfoy stepped forward and knelt on the cold, damp dungeon floor before the Dark Lord, kissing the hem of his black robes. Draco looked up and could feel the Dark Lord's eyes boring holes into his own.

"Did you kill Albus Dumbledore as I had asked?"

"No, my lord, I had him alone, but I couldn't do it."

"And why is that?"

Trying desperately to stave off the wave of panic that was starting to engulf him, he blurted out, "I don't know my lord. He started to talk to me, to say that he could protect me, protect my parents, and I don't know what happened." Draco quickly squashed the notion of trying to convince Voldemort that Dumbledore had somehow tricked or hypnotized him.

"I know exactly what happened, Draco. You, like your father, are weak and pathetic. Your entire family is beginning to become tiresome. Such high hopes I had for the Malfoy clan when I first met your father, and look at you now. Lucius rotting away in Azkaban, you trembling before me, your mother wondering whether or not I plan on killing you..." He could hear a choked sob from the back of the room that he immediately recognized as his mother's. He blocked it from his mind, not wanting his shields to weaken. Voldemort continued, "How fast and far has the Malfoy clan fallen... such a shame. So tell me, Draco, if you did not kill Dumbledore, who did? None of my followers have taken credit for it, though I'm sure all of them would have liked to, so if not you, then who?"

Draco took a deep breath. Despite the fact that he knew that Voldemort was already aware of the evening's proceedings, he still felt like a traitor.

"Professor Snape, my lord."

Voldemort returned his gaze to Snape. "Is this true, Severus? Did the great Albus Dumbledore die at your hands? Well then, congratulations are due, yet... I must confess I find this hard to believe since you were specifically told to let the boy do it on his own. Young Malfoy seems to be telling the truth, unless of course he is a much better Occlumens than I realized."

Snape's face remained completely impassive. "The boy is telling the truth, my lord. When I realized he was not capable of killing Dumbledore, I took matters into my own hands while there was still time."

"You have never disobeyed me before, Severus. I wonder what could have caused you to disobey me after being such a reliable servant for all these years. It must have been something remarkably powerful to be sure."

"_He knows,_" Draco thought. "_He knows about the vow_."

Voldemort turned quickly to Draco and responded as if it had been said aloud. "Yes, I know about the Unbreakable Vow! I know that four of my followers have disobeyed direct orders!" Voldemort began to slowly pace about the room like a lion stalking its prey. "I am saddened and angered by this. I don't know who I can trust anymore. Being disappointed by a Malfoy is no surprise, but Severus and Bellatrix? This indeed saddens me. Finding out that those I thought were closest to me and most loyal disobeyed orders saddens me greatly. And yet, one could argue that all's well that ends well. You did manage to get the Death Eaters into the castle, and Albus Dumbledore is dead, so perhaps I should be merciful." Draco, not believing for a second that there was any way Voldemort planned on being merciful, was controlling his breathing, clearing his mind, and hoping that Snape was right about it reducing the severity of the pain. Voldemort stopped pacing directly in front of Draco.

"Do you think I should be merciful?"

Draco stole a quick glance at Snape, whose stony exterior revealed less than nothing. Checking his Occlumency shields once more, Draco focused on the granite wall around his mind and replied, "No, my lord. I failed you and deserve to be punished." He heard his mother's cries of protest and doubled his concentration on the wall that would hopefully lessen the severity of the pain.

"You will live past tonight, Draco. You have been forthright with me and that was a wise decision. Had you lied, you and your mother would be dead right now. As it is you must accept your punishment. Are you ready?"

"Yes, my lord." Draco closed his eyes and steeled himself...

When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer in the dark moldy dungeon, but appeared to be in a forest of some kind. Massive firs and pines engulfed the landscape in front of him, and a light dusting of snow lay on the ground. Draco's first thought was that he was ravenously hungry, as if he hadn't eaten in years. His second was that he was desperately cold, and it was then he realized that he was almost completely naked except for a loincloth and a sheath that contained a rusty dagger.

A thousand thoughts entered his mind at once. "_What the hell is going on_?" "_Did Voldemort exile me_?" "_Where the hell am I_?" "_Where is my wand_?" "_Why am I so goddamned hungry_?" He had expected the Cruciatus Curse. Maybe Voldemort was going to show him at least some mercy; after all, he did get the Death Eaters into Hogwarts; he hadn't failed completely. He began to look around to see if the place seemed familiar at all. It didn't seem anything at all like the Forbidden Forest, at least not the parts of it that the fat oaf Hagrid had taken him to. Perhaps Voldemort was at Durmstrang and he had left him in the woods outside the castle as punishment. That had to be it – it was the only thing that made sense; Durmstrang was somewhere in the North in the middle of a forest, and was known to be a Death Eater stronghold. This was a test of his strength. He had to make it back to the castle with no wand to aid him. Voldemort wanted him to prove that he wasn't weak, and Draco was not about to disappoint him.

He had no idea which direction to go, and without a wand to point the way, he thought it was best to follow his instincts. He set off, shivering, walking through the forest looking for any sign of civilization. After hours of fruitless walking, his mind more on his all-consuming hunger with every step he took, he saw a path. It was rough and crude, but it was definitely a path through the forest. As he was moving towards it, a wild boar came bolting out of the forest and scurried along it, heading what Draco was almost positive was north. His hunger overwhelming him, Draco took off at top speed after it.

The boar was incredibly fast, but Draco was not to be denied. With a savage glint in his eye, the aching hunger overwhelming his thoughts, he sped after the frightened animal. His leg muscles were screaming with pain, but Draco refused to relent. He kept running as hard as he could, taking in air in great giant gulps to quell the stitch in his side. He was gaining on it. If he could just keep up. He couldn't quit – he had to show Voldemort, his father, he had to show himself that he wouldn't quit, that he was worthwhile. He was still fifteen feet behind the animal when it stumbled over a tree root in the path. Draco pounced on the boar like a crazed lion, and thrust the rusty dagger into its back. Hot blood jetted up into Draco's face, momentarily blinding him; the animal squealed in pain and threw Draco off.

He was up in a flash and after the wounded animal again. It was no match for him now that it was wounded, and he caught up to it quickly. He jumped on the terrified animal's back and began thrusting the dagger into its flesh like a madman. The boar thrashed around wildly, trying to shake free of its attacker, all the while emitting spine chilling squeals of fear and pain. Finally the screaming animal slowed to a halt and dropped to the ground. Draco, panting heavily, his eyes glazed over with hunger, rolled the boar onto its back and cut it open, watching its entrails spill onto the ground, its unearthly squealing frightening the birds in the trees above until they joined in the symphonic cacophony of noise.

Shaking with cold, adrenaline overload and hunger, Malfoy thrust his hand into the animal's chest and with one great heave, ripped its heart from its body. The boar let out a final blood curdling scream before the light left its eyes. Draco took the still warm heart and sank his teeth into it, blood spurting onto his face and running down his chest. His terrible hunger subsided almost as soon as he swallowed the first piece of the animal's flesh. It was then that he started to feel dizzy, as if the world was turning upside down. The light was quickly fading until all Draco could see was the boar beneath him and all he could hear was the screaming of the birds above, which very quickly morphed into the sound of laughter...

...and when the Imperius Curse was lifted, Draco Malfoy was back on the cold, damp dungeon floor looking into the lifeless eyes of his mother, her half eaten heart still in his hand.


	2. Family Reunion

Harry stood in front of number four, Privet Drive, at a complete loss as to what to do. He knew what he wanted to do, but hunting down Horcruxes had about as much to do with the Dursleys as it did with getting his teeth pulled. The only reason he was coming back there at all was because Dumbledore had made him promise that he would. Memories of the headmaster came flooding back to Harry, and he had to suppress the tears that were fighting desperately to free themselves from his eyes. He wouldn't let the Dursleys see him like this, especially since he was arriving weeks early and completely unannounced. Harry had a feeling that this was going to be a surprise that his Uncle Vernon would be none too happy about.

After taking a few deep breaths, he rang the doorbell. A moment passed, then he heard someone approach the door. The curtain to the side of the door drew back slightly and he could see his Aunt Petunia's eyes start to bulge out of their sockets, making her look like a horse that had just been told it was a chicken. The door opened and his aunt practically yanked him inside the house before quickly closing the door so that the neighbors wouldn't see.

"What are you doing here? Why aren't you at school?" she demanded.

"School ended early this year."

"Don't get smart with me – you were expelled weren't you? Even the freaks at that school don't want you around."

"I wasn't expelled and believe me, I'm no happier about this than you are."

"Watch your tongue, boy. Upstairs with you. We'll sort this out when Vernon gets home."

Harry muttered under his breath, "Brilliant."

Harry trudged up the stairs to his bedroom, carrying his trunk and a cage that contained his snowy white owl Hedwig. He put Hedwig's cage on top of his dresser, put the trunk down on the floor and crawled into bed. He spent the rest of the day staring up at the ceiling trying to gather his thoughts. He would think of Dumbledore which would immediately make him think of Snape which would lead him to Voldemort, then to Horcruxes...Ginny...Sirius...Cedric. His mind was spinning out of control and he couldn't focus on anything. He tried to sleep, but after an hour of tossing and turning he gave it up as a bad job. He tried to read "_Hogwarts: a History_" as Hermione had recommended so many times, but wound up reading the same sentence over and over. Exasperated, Harry threw the book across the room and it hit the wall with a thud, which caused Hedwig to flap around in her cage.

"Sorry girl – it's been a long week." Hedwig hooted sympathetically.

The shrill voice of his aunt came up from the kitchen, "What are you doing up there?"

"Building an addition to the house..." Harry yelled back. "I was going to surprise you."

Within a second, Petunia was marching up the stairs, muttering to herself. The only word Harry managed to make out was "ungrateful." "_Oh here we go," _he thought as his eyes rolled towards the heavens_. "Why can't she just leave me alone_?" Harry's bedroom door flew open, revealing a rather flustered Petunia Dursley, wearing an apron and wielding a feather duster.

"Sixteen years we have kept you under our roof!" she exclaimed, punctuating every syllable by shaking her feather duster at Harry. "We have fed you, clothed you, given you a bed, and driven to London twice a year to let you go to that freakish school of yours, and this is my thanks!" The way she was waving the duster around, Harry couldn't help but think that his aunt would be quite a formidable foe with a wand. This thought brought a wry smile to Harry's lips which only upset Petunia even further.

"You think this is funny? You think it's funny that I have been saddled with you for the past sixteen years, wondering every day whether or not some maniac freak is going to destroy my house, my family, all because of something your parents did to him seventeen years ago?"

Harry tried to interject. "What my parents did? What are you- are you talking about Voldemort?" he asked, completely gobsmacked, but Petunia was on a roll and was not about to be interrupted.

"You think its funny, getting expelled from that freak school of yours? Even that old fool Dumbledore can't stand the sight of you any-"

"He was not a fool! Albus Dumbledore was the greatest wizard who ever lived, and if you say one more word about him-"

"What do you mean 'was'?" Harry, though angered, was silenced immediately by the look of dread on his Aunt's face.

"He's..." Harry tried to swallow the lump developing in his throat, to no avail. He had to take a deep breath to keep himself from breaking down. "Dumbledore is dead... that's why I'm home early. He was... murdered. That's why they closed the school."

At those words, Petunia turned the color of an old gym sock and swayed unsteadily. Harry, his anger forgotten, immediately jumped from his bed to steady her and help her sit down. Petunia sat on the edge of Harry's bed, her hands covering her mouth, rocking back and forth. "Oh my god... oh my god..."

Harry had no idea what to do. His aunt looked like she was going catatonic. He had not expected this reaction at all. His first instinct was to try to comfort her, despite how she had treated him all these years, yet she was quite close to completely losing it, and he was afraid that if her touched her, she would go off the deep end. He tentatively put his hand towards her, touching her shoulder. When no negative reaction came, he awkwardly began to pat her back.

"Aunt Petunia, its okay...it's going to be okay..."

"Lily said Dumbledore was the only one powerful enough to keep him at bay. That's what she told me! How can you tell me it's going to be okay? Dumbledore was the only one keeping Dudley from finding out what he really is!"

Harry was dumbfounded. "Wait, are you saying that Dudley is a wiz-"

"Don't say that word!" Petunia screamed, her face turning a dark shade of magenta.

"_My god,_" Harry thought, "_she's gone mental_."

"Spoiling my baby rotten so that he wouldn't get angry, wouldn't get upset! What is he going to do in the real world when he realizes that people aren't just going to hand everything to him? If Vernon ever found out about Dudley he'd leave us in an instant. And what would I do then? Oh, that Dumbledore said he would make sure that he never found out about his powers, that as long as I promised to give you a place to stay he would keep Diddykins' secret, that no one would ever know. What am I supposed to do now that he's dead? How can I protect Dudley now?"

Harry was dumbfounded. The idea that his mum had actually talked to his aunt about Voldemort was absurd, yet it was also, apparently, fact. Never mind that Dudley was a wizard. In a matter of seconds his entire world had been turned upside down as his two lives, muggle and magical, collided. He didn't answer for a moment, wondering exactly how much he should tell her. Finally he came to the conclusion that if his mother had spoken with Petunia about Voldemort, she may have told her other things as well. Things that could be useful.

"Look, I don't know what my mum told you, but there was a prophecy about Voldemort... and about me... I'm the only one who can stop him for good... at least according to the prophecy." Harry wasn't sure that it was the best idea to let her in on the prophecy, but he hadn't told her what it actually said, and besides, if Voldemort ever caught up with the Dursleys, Harry was pretty sure that he would be too arrogant to consider that a bunch of filthy Muggles might know anything of importance.

Petunia looked up at her nephew, her expression registering both shock and pity.

"I don't expect to live through it... but for whatever reason I'm the one who has been chosen to do this. That's why Voldemort killed my parents. That's why he tried to kill me. That's why Dumbledore has been protecting me. It's my fate, and although I'm not happy about it, I have no choice but to accept it. If I try to walk away from it, he'll track me down and kill me anyway. So if my mum told you anything... anything at all that might help me to stop this madman, I need to know."

Petunia was silent for a moment, and then spoke.

"Dumbledore gave me some of Lily's things. Personal effects mostly. Letters, a diary, things like that. I was supposed to give them to you on your seventeenth birthday, but I think maybe you should have them now."

Petunia got up and silently left Harry's bedroom, returning a moment later with a shoebox.

"I don't know if anything in here will help you, Harry, but I pray that it does. I pray for all of us that it does. I'm sorry for the way I treated you. I was so scared of you being here, of Dudley finding out that he was... different. I didn't want my family to meet the same end as my sister's. I didn't want Vernon to leave me. I hope you can forgive me, and I'm sorry that this has fallen upon your shoulders when you never asked for it. When Vernon gets home, leave him to me. I'll make sure he stays out of your way."

Harry looked at his aunt; seeing her in a completely new light was refreshing and sad at the same time. "I'm sorry too," was all he could manage.

When Petunia left the room, Harry opened the shoebox to find a few letters, a photograph, and a diary. The photograph was a picture of his parents in what must have been their living room at Godric's Hollow, beaming brightly, Lily holding baby Harry in her arms, James' arm around his mother's shoulders. "_Harry: 2 weeks old_" was written in ink on the bottom of the photo. Harry had never seen a picture of himself with his parents before. The tears began to well up in his eyes and his body began to shake. He couldn't contain the overwhelming sadness inside him anymore, and he began to sob violently. For his parents, for Sirius, for Cedric, for Dumbledore, for himself. How many more people would be ripped from him before this was over? Why was all of this happening to him? What had he ever done to anyone to deserve this much pain? He had done nothing. Voldemort had made this choice not him, and he was going to make Voldemort feel ten times the pain he had caused Harry.

He put the photo carefully back into the shoebox and took a minute to compose himself before examining the rest of the contents of the box. The diary was locked, but there was no key to it. He was tempted to open it with _Alohomora_, but thought better of it when he realized that the Ministry would be swarming all over Privet Drive if he used his wand, so he decided to start with the letters. He sorted them by date, then took the first one out of its envelope and read it.

_M.P._

_Under no circumstances are you to tell the animals that I engineered the "little accident" (although I think the old man suspects it already). It could undermine everything. It is essential that they hate me, now more than ever. I have started my journey through the door. Do not lose faith in me now._

_H.P._

Harry read the letter many times over. The date on it suggested that it was written when his mother was in her fifth year at Hogwarts. It was obviously written so that if it were intercepted no one would understand it. Lily must be M.P., but what did it stand for? And who was H.P.? Did the fact that he had the same initials as Harry mean anything, or was it mere coincidence? What kind of animals hated the author? And why did H.P. want them to hate him? What was the "little accident"? What door was he referencing? The only one he could think of was the locked door in the Department of Mysteries. Who was the old man – Dumbledore maybe? Harry opened the second letter, from his mother's sixth year, and read.

_M.P._

_This will be my last piece of correspondence for awhile. I am on the other side of the door – do not attempt to contact me if you want me to live. Keep my cloak as a token of our friendship and as thanks for all of your help._

_H.P._

_P.S. The old man knows, and does not agree with my actions, but there is nothing he can do to stop me._

The business about the cloak was eating at him. An invisibility cloak? Could H.P. be his father? How could it be? If his father wanted Lily to have his cloak, he simply would have given it to her; he wouldn't need to write her a letter. Harry took the last letter, which was dated some time after his mother had graduated, out of its envelope:

_M.P._

_The time is coming soon. Possession is the key. I know it is folly to beg you not to do this, but I would not be your friend if I didn't at least try. You may lose more than your life if you attempt it. I'm sorry I could not find another way._

_H.P._

What did M.P. mean by possession? What was it the key to? The diary? Probably not; after all, Harry already possessed the diary and it still wouldn't open for him. What if H.P. meant possession in the same way Voldemort had possessed him in the lobby of the Ministry of Magic? But why would his mother want to possess another human being? Was she attempting to possess Voldemort? After reading the last letter many times over, with nothing to show for it except a dull headache, Harry decided that the job of deciphering what the hell his mother and H.P. were talking about was best left to Hermione. Harry sat down with a quill and a piece of parchment:

_Dear Hermione,_

_I'm having difficulty with a History of Magic homework assignment that I desperately need your help with. I will explain in fuller detail when I see you. I hope you are well, and I look forward to seeing you and Ron. Please give my regards to Ginny and the rest of the Weasley family and write back soon._

_Regards, Harry._

Harry hoped that the letter didn't give away too much in case it was intercepted. He knew Hermione would know that he was worried about Ginny and missed her terribly despite the nonchalant way in which he asked about her. He was already having regrets about ending it with her at Dumbledore's funeral. At this point, the thought of her was the only thing that made him want to get out of bed, the only thing that made him want to keep on living. His mind wandered into a fantasy where he and Ginny lived together on a small island in the South Pacific, far away from the wizarding world, away from war, away from Voldemort. Harry snapped himself back to reality. "_This is exactly why you can't be with her right now_," Harry thought to himself. "_It's too distracting, and distractions could mean the difference between life and death_." He reread his letter to Hermione, looking for anything that might be telling to anyone but her. The homework reference looked innocuous enough, and only Hermione would realize its importance. He sealed the letter and retrieved Hedwig from her cage. After fastening the letter to one of her legs, he opened the window and the snowy white owl flew off into the night.

There was so much new information for Harry to process all at once, that he didn't quite know where to start. Dudley was a wizard? It seemed almost impossible to believe, yet it all made sense. All those years of his aunt and uncle caving in to Dudley's every whim. Vernon just spoiled the boy because that was probably how he was raised himself, but Petunia had other motives. She was afraid that if he got upset, his magical abilities would manifest themselves just as they had done with Harry. She was right, if Vernon ever found out he would leave them immediately with no means of support. No wonder his aunt had treated him so badly all these years. Harry's mere presence at Privet Drive could have completely ruined her life. As far as Harry was concerned, the last person who should be able to use magic was his cousin. His mind was immediately flooded with images of Dudley terrorizing the local neighborhood boys with the Cruciatus Curse, and silently thanked his aunt and Dumbledore for keeping Dudley's abilities hidden.

Harry looked at the diary again. Why would Lily leave her sister a locked diary with no key? Harry couldn't imagine that Dumbledore would have lost it en route to Privet Drive. Maybe Dumbledore couldn't find it; after all, he had been told that the house was almost leveled after Voldemort's attack. Then again, Dumbledore probably didn't trust Petunia not to read it. Petunia was the nosiest person he had ever met in his life and his headmaster surely must have known that as well, so if his aunt didn't have the key, who did? Harry's first thought was that it must be at Godric's Hollow. It was as if Dumbledore was telling him that he needed to go there, and as soon as he was seventeen, that was exactly what he planned on doing.

Harry took the photograph out of the shoebox again. He stared at his parents, joyfully waving to the camera, his mother holding him to her bosom and gently kissing the top of his head. He looked closer at the image of himself as a baby. It was so odd to see himself without a scar on his forehead; it was hard for him to believe that he was looking at himself. Then it hit him. "_My eyes! They're almost black!_" Harry knew that a small child's eyes could change color as they got older, but they would change from hazel to green or blue, not from black to emerald. Harry rifled through his trunk until he found the Omnioculars he had purchased at the Quidditch World Cup three years previously, focused them on the picture and then zoomed in. He had never looked at a wizard picture like this before and the results were incredible. Nothing got grainy or blurry as he zoomed in – everything in the picture remained sharp and crystal clear.

Through the Omnioculars, Harry could see that his eyes were most definitely black. He moved the sights around the picture, hoping to find something in it that might give away the location of the key. It was a simply furnished living room, with a sofa, two armchairs, a bookshelf, a coffee table and some photos and paintings on the wall that showed various images of Harry's parents, Sirius, Remus, and other members of the Order. Harry zoomed in on the bookshelf and saw nothing but books with ordinary titles that would be in any wizarding home, but nothing that signaled where the key to the diary might be. He moved the sights to the coffee table, but there was nothing on it, save for a book lying open. Harry zoomed in on the book, and what he saw made him drop his Omnioculars onto the floor. Harry picked them up and focused on the picture again, hoping that he had imagined what he had just seen. When he zoomed in on the book again, the writing was still there, as plain as day: "_This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince._"

"_What the hell were my parents doing with Snape's textbook?" _Harry thought to himself. "_And if it was at Godric's Hollow, how did it get back to Hogw..." _The obvious answer hit Harry with the force of a sledgehammer. "_That son of a bitch! Snape was there! He was there that night! He watched my parents die! I'm going to kill that bastard! I'm going to make him suffer so badly he'll be begging for death by the time I'm through with him!" _An image of Hermione came into his head, chiding him that he didn't know for sure how that textbook got back to Hogwarts, but Harry didn't care. She had been defending Snape for six years, and in the end, she was wrong. He wanted to believe that Snape was there that night, and even if it wasn't true it didn't matter. Snape had killed Dumbledore, and that was reason enough for him to die. Harry was shaking uncontrollably with pure blind rage. No matter what else happened, Harry was going to make damn sure that Snape was dead while he still had a chance to kill him, and that meant killing him before he faced Voldemort.

Voldemort. Two of the Horcruxes had been destroyed already, one of them almost killing Dumbledore in the process. How on earth was he supposed to be able to track down four more of these bloody things? The snake was the easy one. It would be wherever Voldemort was. But the rest... he had no idea what one of them even was. It could literally be anywhere. He pulled the locket out of his pocket and read the note again.

_To the Dark Lord  
I know I will be dead long before you read this_

_but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret._

_I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.  
I face death in the hope that when you meet your match,_

_you will be mortal once more.  
R.A.B_

Harry couldn't even hazard a guess as to R.A.B. might be, or how he had even known about the Horcruxes... correction – a Horcrux. Whoever wrote this note plainly had no idea that there was more than one. The author apparently thought he was delivering a death blow to Voldemort. Who could that be? The tone of the letter was obviously vindictive and personal – whoever this person was, he knew Voldemort personally, and furthermore, he seemed to know that his days were numbered. Who would want revenge from beyond the grave? A rogue Death Eater maybe? Someone who had fallen out of favor with Voldemort?

The person said he was going to destroy the locket as soon as he could – did that mean that he actually knew how to destroy a Horcrux? Harry wasn't even sure how to destroy one and he'd done it once already. What about 'when you meet your match'? Could this person have known about the prophesy? It seemed highly unlikely. Who could have known? Dumbledore, Harry, Lily, James, Snape and Voldemort, and the last two people on the list only knew the first half. Harry didn't imagine that Voldemort would have shared that kind of information with just anyone, even if they were a Death Eater. He supposed that Snape could have told someone else, but that also seemed highly unlikely.

The entire month of June and the beginning of July passed without Harry receiving any reply from Hermione, or any letters at all for that matter. He had written her once a week and had started writing Ron as well in the hopes that he would receive some word of how they were doing, and after the last time he had written, Hedwig had not returned. On July eighth, with only three weeks left until his birthday, Harry went from being irritated to seriously worried. He had no way of knowing what was going on in the wizarding world. For all he knew, they could be dead. He knew it was risky, especially since his uncle Vernon had left him completely alone for the last month and Dudley was too concerned with his new pastime; namely, going out with his mates and getting as pissed as was humanly possible, but he had to know what was happening. "_Dobby_!" Harry called out. Within a second, the house-elf had Apparated before him.

"Oh, Harry Potter! Dobby is so glad to see the great Harry Potter!"

"It's good to see you too, Dobby; listen, I need-"

"Such an honor it is! That Harry Potter would be happy to see Dobby! Oh, sir..." Tears began to well in Dobby's eyes as he started to sniffle.

"I need to ask you something important, Dobby, and please don't be offended..."

"The great Harry Potter could never offend Dobby!"

"Okay, Dobby! Please just answer my question. Have you... have you been intercepting my mail again?"

"Oh no, sir! Dobby would not dream of touching Harry Potter's mail!"

"It's just that no one has written to me and I don't know what is going on... and I'm worried Dobby. I'm worried that something terrible has happened. I need you to spy for me, Dobby. I need you to go to the Burrow and find out what's happening."

"Dobby can go sir! Dobby can go to young master Wheezy's house and listen. Dobby can find out for Harry Potter."

"You would, Dobby? I mean, you don't mind?"

"Dobby mind?" he squealed. "Harry Potter gave Dobby his freedom! Dobby would do anything for Harry Potter!"

"Thank you, Dobby. I really appreciate you doing this for me, but time is of the essence. I need to know as soon as possible."

"Of course, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby will be going there straightaway."And with a pop, Dobby was gone.

The next week seemed maddeningly long as Harry waited for any word from Dobby. He vacillated between worry and anger as he alternately envisioned that the worst had happened to his friends, followed by visions similar to what had happened two summers ago, when they were all at headquarters and he was left completely out of the loop. In order to take his mind off of these negative thoughts, he read the letters to his mother from this mysterious person over and over, hoping to find anything that might be of help, but whoever had written these letters had taken great care to make sure that only Lily could understand them. He tried to focus on the Horcruxes and the identity of R.A.B. He read all of his school books looking for anyone that might have those initials, but to no avail. He found a few people with the initials R and B in "_Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century," _but none of them seemed to fit in with Voldemort or Horcruxes.

His thoughts drifted to something that had been bubbling in his unconscious for quite some time, though it had never really registered before. When Dumbledore had shown him various memories in his Pensieve last term, the one where Tom Riddle had come back to Hogwarts for a teaching position had never really made sense. Why had Dumbledore shown him that memory? In the memory, Tom had tried to surreptitiously use his wand, but it was obvious that Dumbledore had seen it. Harry had initially assumed that Riddle was going to try to hex Dumbledore and then thought better of it. But why show Harry the memory at all then? Maybe Riddle did cast a spell. Harry supposed it was likely that Tom had cursed the DADA position at that very moment, yet that still didn't seem to be a good enough reason for Dumbledore to show him that specific memory.

Maybe he was at Hogwarts for another reason. Dumbledore clearly stated that he knew Tom didn't want the teaching position, so why was he there, and what did he accomplish on that day? He couldn't have created a Horcrux without murdering someone right under Dumbledore's nose... could he have hidden one there? In the memory, Dumbledore was waiting in his office for Tom Riddle to arrive. Where could he have had time to hide one? The Room of Requirement! It was close enough to Dumbledore's office, certainly. If Riddle had planned it right, he could have easily hidden one there without causing suspicion. "_If I'm right,_" Harry thought. "_How am I going to find it in there? It could take years to go through every object in that room."_ Either way, Harry knew that he would be visiting Hogwarts again, despite the fact that he wouldn't be returning as a student.

How was he going to tell McGonagall? She would be livid when she found out. If the school opened at all that is. "_At least it will be easier for me than it will be for Ron."_ Harry wondered if Ron had told Mrs. Weasley that he wasn't going to return to Hogwarts. His best bet would have been to do it on platform nine and three-quarters, while there were too many people around for Mrs. Weasley to go into a full blown rant. Harry hadn't waited around to find out, mostly because he thought that if he saw Ginny, his heart would break in two.

Back to Ginny again. For the first time in his life, Harry had been happy – truly happy. It had only taken two weeks for everything to come crashing down around him. Harry wasn't even sure if he was going to go to Bill and Fleur's wedding. It would be terribly insulting to the Weasleys, who were the only family he'd ever had, but he didn't know what would happen if he saw Ginny. He missed her terribly. Her beautiful smile, the way she smelled, the way she tasted, the way she would always add a little whisper of a kiss every time their lips parted. Harry shook himself back to reality again. He had to stop thinking about her. Even if they weren't physically together, if Voldemort ever saw his thoughts... he had to put her completely out of his mind.

The next morning, Harry lay in bed after a bad night's sleep, the thoughts still swirling in his head from the previous evening, when Dobby arrived with a faint pop. Harry jumped out of bed at the sight of the house-elf and began a barrage of questions.

"Dobby! What's going on? Is everyone alright? What happened? Why has no one tried to contact me?"

"Please, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby has gone to the Wheezy house and everyone is fine. Even your owl is there and the Wheezys take good care of her."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Ginny, Ron, Hermione, they were all okay. His relief was short lived, however, as Harry began to get angry.

"Why the-"Harry thought better of yelling with the Dursleys right downstairs and lowered his voice. "Why the hell are they ignoring me then?"

"Dobby does not know for sure. Dobby overheard the Wheezy father talking about a plan, but Dobby does not know what the plan is. Dobby only knows the plan is about your birthday. Dobby tried to hear more but they did not talk much, and Dobby did not want to get caught. I'm sorry Dobby did not do better, sir."

Dobby's ears began to droop in shame, but before he could start crying, Harry took him by the shoulders and looked into his saucer-like eyes.

"Nonsense, Dobby. You did great. I was scared that they were all dead and you at least put my mind at ease. I owe you a great deal for this, Dobby. You've helped me a lot and I won't forget it."

Dobby looked as if he were going to start crying again. "Harry Potter is so kind to Dobby! Even when Dobby fails Harry Potter treats him kindly!

Harry, worried that the Dursleys would hear Dobby, headed him off before he could get a full head of steam. "Dobby, I need you to go back to the Weasley house and see if you can find out anything else. Just stay there, stay out of sight, and listen. If you hear anything that might be important, you are to report back to me immediately, okay?"

"Dobby will go back to the Wheezys! If Dobby hears anything else he will come back to tell Harry Potter."he said, and with a pop, Dobby was gone.

Harry went to bed that night angrier than he had ever been in his life. How dare they! How dare they keep him in the dark again! And what about Ron and Hermione? They promised they would never do this to him again after the last time! They were supposed to be his friends! And they made him promise to take them with him to hunt the Horcruxes! "_We'll see how they like it when a friend breaks a promise,"_ Harry thought to himself before drifting off to sleep.

As Harry slept, he had a very vivid dream. There was a meeting of Death Eaters and Draco Malfoy was trying to explain to Voldemort what had gone wrong. What Voldemort did next was the most revolting thing Harry had ever seen in his life. The dream ended with Draco looking into his mother's lifeless eyes, his body shaking violently. Harry could tell that Draco was on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown, and actually found himself feeling sorry for the wanker. Draco began to vomit as the realization of what had just occurred sank in, and when he was done being sick, he passed out. The last thing Harry saw before he awoke trembling and sweating was that Draco's sick had formed the shape of the Dark Mark.


	3. Accidental Magic

The two days preceding Harry Potter's birthday were very odd, very odd at least, for Petunia Dursley. She had first noticed it the day after she heard Harry scream in the middle of the night. Luckily, Vernon was in such a deep slumber that the screams hadn't awoken him. She put on her nightgown and went to check on him. As it had turned out, he had had a very bad nightmare. So bad in fact, that he wouldn't talk about it, but Petunia could see it in his eyes; fear, revulsion, disgust, and she was almost certain he had been crying. Whatever he had dreamt about, she was sure that it had to do with this maniac Voldemort, the man (if you could call him a man), that had murdered Harry's parents.

The following day, Harry locked himself in his room, coming out only to shower and use the water closet. He took his meals through the cat flap in the door that Vernon had installed years previously, and didn't say one word all day. At first, Petunia assumed that the dream had shaken him up so badly that he needed a day to process it. It was only on day two, when Harry still hadn't said a word, that Petunia started to think that something might be seriously wrong. She certainly didn't expect Harry to share anything with her after the way she'd treated him, but he was usually at least good for a few cheeky remarks a day. What was worse, apart from his silence, was the look on his face. It was a look she had only seen on the telly, when they had aired that special about death row inmates. He looked, in short, like a man who knew he was days away from going to the electric chair. Harry however, remained stoically silent, locked in his bedroom unless Vernon had chores for him to do, which he did silently and efficiently before returning to his room. That night, in bed, Petunia decided to broach the subject with her husband.

"Vernon."

"Yes dear."

"Have you noticed anything odd about the boy lately?"

"I've noticed that he's not giving me any cheek, if that's what you mean," he replied happily. "Why, just yesterday, he was cleaning out the garage and he tripped over a can of paint – spilled it everywhere. I told him to clean it up or he wasn't getting any supper and he did it without a word or a dirty look – quite refreshing if you ask me."

"Well, don't you think that's a bit odd though?"

"Petunia, that Dunderlore bloke said that he has to stay here until his seventeenth birthday. He's probably just smart enough to realize it would be bad for him if he mucked it up."

Petunia wondered whether or not she should tell her husband about Dumbledore, but quickly decided against it, not because it would upset him, but because he wouldn't care one way or the other. He had no idea what real danger they were all in, and Petunia wanted to keep it that way. "Maybe you're right; it just seems so... unlike him."

"Darling, why look a gift horse in the mouth? This is the most peace and quiet this household has seen since we took that little brat into our home. It's a blessing – don't question it, just enjoy it."And with those words, Vernon Dursley snuggled deep under his bedcovers and fell asleep.

The next evening was quite possibly the worst evening Petunia had ever had in her life. The day started off normally enough except that Harry still wasn't speaking. Vernon had had a fine day at work and when he came home, he was in a very chipper mood. The fact that in twenty-four hours' time he would never have to see his good-for-nothing nephew again was certainly a contributing factor. Dinner was pleasant, and with Harry once again taking his supper in his room, Vernon was as happy as a clam. Dudley went out with Piers Polkiss and his mates, and Harry stayed in his room. They watched the evening news together, which allowed Vernon to feel better about himself by criticizing everyone from the Prime Minister to the weatherman, who still had no reasonable explanation as to the foggy mist that had covered all of England for over a year.

It was after she and Vernon had retired for the night that the trouble started. They were just drifting off when they heard a loud noise coming from downstairs. Vernon got out of bed enraged, assuming that Harry was making a midnight raid on the refrigerator, but when they checked his room, he was sound asleep. Vernon went back to his room and retrieved a cricket bat from when he had been on the Smeltings team out of his closet. He told Petunia to stay upstairs as he quietly (or at least quietly for a man of his size) descended the staircase. Petunia stood there a full minute listening hard for any sign as to what was happening. The silence was finally broken by Vernon – he was... he was laughing, a big, hearty gut laugh. "Petunia! Petunia come down here and look at this sight!"

She flew down the stairs in a state of complete confusion as to what would be cracking her husband up in the middle of the night. When she got to the kitchen, she saw Dudley sitting at the kitchen table, completely soused, her husband laughing at the sorry state he was in. "Looks like our boy is finally a man – eh, Dudders!" Vernon said as he lightly punched his son in the shoulder. Dudley looked up at his father with the pathetic expression of a dog that had just eaten a skunk. Petunia was disgusted at Dudley's condition – he had obviously been sick and he looked miserable. "Vernon, take him upstairs and put him in the shower please." It was only then that she noticed Piers Polkiss in the front hallway, looking frightened out of his wits. As Vernon took Dudley upstairs for a shower, she could hear him talking about the first time he had gotten pissed – what kind of booze it had been and how Dudley was going to regret it in the morning, chuckling to himself the whole time. She would never understand men.

She called for Piers to come into the kitchen and sit down. He did as he was told.

"Would you like some tea, dear?"

"Yes, Mrs. Dursley."

Petunia put the kettle on the stovetop and retrieved two teacups from the cupboard.

"You did the right thing by bringing Dudley home, Piers. I expected this to happen sooner or later and I'm not angry. A little disappointed maybe, but I'm not angry, so there's nothing to be scared about."

"Are you going to tell my mum and dad?"

Petunia hesitated for a moment. Her first instinct was indeed to phone Mrs. Polkiss, but Piers looked genuinely frightened out of his wits and seemed to be suffering quite enough already. Hopefully he had already learned a lesson from all of this, and she thought it best to at least tell Piers, for the time being, that his secret was safe with her.

"No, Piers, I'm not going to phone your parents; you proved yourself to be a loyal friend to Dudley tonight and brought him home even though you knew you might get in trouble. However, if this ever happens again, I will phone your parents immediately."

"Mrs. Dursley..." Piers' voice was still shaking.

Petunia set a cup of tea in front of the frightened boy. "Drink it before it gets cold, dear – you'll feel better." Why was Piers still frightened? She had told him in no uncertain terms that she wasn't angry, nor was she going to tell his parents.

"Mrs. Dursley... something happened tonight."

"I should say so, Piers."

"No, that's not what I mean. I mean... something weird happened. We were drinking in the park and we met some girls. They wanted to drink with us but we didn't have any more beer. We wanted them to stay, so we wanted to get more, but the local was already closed. The closest place to get more was a few kilometers away. We had only had a couple so... I'm sorry it was my idea... I said we could take my father's car to the store. I swear we weren't drunk when we got in the car! We had only had two each, and Dudley is so big, we figured he could drive. We got to the store okay, but on the way back, we were driving and someone ran a red light. We were going to smash right into them and then something happened."

Petunia did not at all like where this conversation was headed. Swallowing the dread that was building up inside her, she asked, "What exactly happened, Piers?"

"The car... the one we were going to hit... it... it just disappeared! Into thin air! Every one of us saw it. It was right in front of us one second, and then the next it was just... gone..."

Petunia heard a strange noise and when she looked down, realized it was the sound of the teacup she was holding clanking against her saucer. She steadied her hands and managed to choke out, "So everyone was okay? No one got hurt?"

"No ma'am, no one got hurt. No one spoke for a while and when we put my dad's car back and went to the park, Dudley just started drinking heavily, like he was in a contest or something. He wouldn't say a word the rest of the night. Eventually the girls got creeped out by him and left. Dennis started to take the piss with Dudley, on account of the girls leaving. Dudley didn't say a word. Put down his beer, punched Dennis right in the face, picked his beer back up and kept on drinking. I begged him to stop but he wouldn't – he eventually passed out and I had to drag him all the way here from the park. It's not his fault – it was my idea to take my dad's car."

Petunia could feel her chest constricting as the boy told his tale. "_This is only the beginning,_" she thought to herself. "_It's only going to get worse._" "Piers," she said, trying desperately to sound nonchalant, "automobiles do not simply disappear into thin air. You boys were drinking and driving, and thank god, you avoided having an accident, but the car must have swerved out of the way. You can't trust your senses when under the influence. You need to calm down. There's no way a car simply vanished – it's impossible." "_Unless the person driving the other car makes it vanish," _she thought grimly.

"Mrs. Dursley?"

"Yes Piers?"

"We weren't drunk." The boy seemed to be struggling with something, and Petunia thought it best to remain quiet and not push him. "The truth is, Mrs. Dursley, we've been doing this for awhile now. Drinking I mean. I've been drunk. I know what it feels like and this wasn't it."

Though Petunia could honestly admit to herself that she wasn't shocked that Dudley and his friends had been abusing alcohol for a while now, she, like all mothers, had hoped that it simply wasn't the case. With that illusion abandoned, Petunia could only hope to dissuade Piers of his notion that anything "unnatural" had happened this evening.

"That may be, Piers, but even a couple of drinks can seriously affect your judgment. Even if you don't feel drunk, you may not be able to perceive things as they actually are, which is why driving after even a couple of drinks is a terrible idea. There have been times when Vernon and I have been out, and he's had a couple of drinks, not acting in any way off, mind you, but I still insisted upon driving us home myself – after tonight, I believe you can appreciate why."

"You don't think the car disappeared?"

Petunia's jaw clenched as she tried not to think of her poor Dudders making a car vanish into thin air. "No, Piers, I do not believe the car disappeared. I believe that it was moving very fast if it went through a red light as you said, and the driver probably swerved at the last minute. It was moving so quickly that you probably just didn't see where it had gotten to." Despite what she knew to be the truth, she added, "Cars don't just vanish."

Piers studied her for a moment. She tried desperately to remain relaxed, and finally the boy's lip started to quiver. "I thought I knew my limits," he choked. "I thought I knew what I could handle. If two drinks are making me see things, I'm never doing it again!" "_God,"_ thought Petunia, "_how many teenagers on the planet have said 'never again' before?" _ All she could hope for was that Piers had really meant what he said.

"I hope you are sincere about this, Piers. You are Dudley's best friend, and if you mean what you say, I expect you to be a positive influence on him. You could have both died tonight. I have shown enough trust in your maturity to not phone your parents tonight, and for that, you owe me. If he continues this behavior I want to know about it; is that clear?"

Piers seemed to struggle momentarily with the thought of having to rat Dudley out to his mum, but considering how much trouble Mrs. Dursley could have gotten him in that evening, he simply couldn't refuse her. "I promise you, Mrs. Dursley, I'll try to steer Dudley away from drinking, and if he refuses, I'll come to you straight away."

"Good. It's late, Piers – you should be getting home." Petunia let out a heavy sigh. If anything at all good came out of this evening, at least Piers, and by association Dudley, wouldn't be drinking for awhile, much less getting behind the wheel of an automobile. Piers got up from the kitchen table and walked to the front door of number 4 Privet Drive. He stopped and turned back to the kitchen as his hand touched the doorknob. "Mrs. Dursley?" Petunia turned to the foyer to see Piers looking at her very intensely.

"Yes, Piers?"

"I swear I'll come to you if Dudley doesn't stop drinking. You're a really brilliant mum – thanks." And with that, Piers Polkiss let himself out and started home.

Petunia, despite the churning in her stomach, allowed a tiny smile to cross her lips as her eyes misted over. It was the first time in her life that anyone had ever called her "cool."

A loud thud brought her out of her reverie as she realized that Vernon must have momentarily lost hold of Dudley who was no doubt wet, slippery and almost comatose. Vernon's chuckle assured her that Dudley was fine – "_he's anything but fine!_" she snorted to herself. She had already decided to deal with this in the morning. There was nothing she could do about it while Vernon was around anyway. She would speak with her son about what had happened when he woke up, hoping against hope that she might be able to get him to believe the story she had just sold to Piers. Deep in her heart, she knew that it was unlikely that he would believe her, but she had to at least try. As a last resort, maybe she could get Harry to speak with him, tell him that he somehow had the power to know when a family member was in danger and that it was he who made the car vanish. But would Harry even agree to such a thing? He was leaving for good tomorrow and she knew she had no leverage over him. She only hoped that the goodwill she had shown him by giving him his mother's possessions earlier than she was supposed to would earn dividends.

Petunia reluctantly went up to bed, knowing she would not be falling asleep any time this week, but she had to keep up appearances in front of Vernon. "_Keep up appearances," _she sighed to herself. _"That's all I've managed to do with my life is keep up appearances." _She wearily climbed into bed next to her husband, who was determined to give her a play by play of Dudley's drunken shower escapades before chuckling himself to sleep. She didn't hear a word of it, of course, her only thoughts revolving around the welfare of her son, whom she simultaneously wanted to hug and beat the ever-living shit out of, and the huge mess she had made of her life. Once she was sure that Vernon was dead to the world, Petunia Dursley softly cried herself to sleep.

OOOOOOOOOOO

This was not going to be a good day. Dudley Dursley's first thought as he regained consciousness was that someone must have hit him in the head with a wrecking ball. The sunlight streaming in through his bedroom window was like acid poured into his eyes, and every time he even slightly adjusted his mammoth frame to get slightly more comfortable, his stomach did something between a samba and a cha cha.

"_What the bloody hell did I do last night?"_ Hiding under his bedding as if the sunlight would melt the flesh from his bones, Dudley tried to navigate the haze that seemed to have invaded his brain. He vaguely remembered being in the park with Piers and Dennis. Some girls showed up. Piers began chatting them up and soon Dennis joined in, but Dudley remembered staying quiet. He didn't think they would be interested in him because of his size, and so he sat on one of the swings keeping to himself. One of the girls came and sat on the swing next to him. "Strong and silent type yeah?" she said, smiling coyly at him.

Dudley had not been expecting this and didn't quite know how to handle it. Among the boys, he was the de-facto leader, but he had never gotten attention from girls before. Before he could say anything, she giggled and said, "Yeah, I guess you are the strong and silent type." With that, she pulled a bottle of whiskey out from beneath her jacket. "I think that beer is getting awfully lonely down there in your tummy – I think he needs a friend." Dudley laughed nervously and accepted the bottle from her. Caught between his nervousness and wanting to impress her, Dudley downed the entire bottle in one go. The girl, needless to say, was not impressed. "Bloody hell! That was all we had you fat hog!" Dudley realized he had just messed up big time. "I'm sorry," he stammered, "I didn't mean to – look I'll get you more – we'll go right now, I promise."

Dudley pulled Piers away from the others and told him that the girls were looking to get drunk with them, omitting the part of the story where he had drank all of their liquor. After a few minutes of pleading, threatening and cajoling, Dudley convinced Piers to let him take his father's car to the market. "Well," Piers said reluctantly, "we've only had a couple each; I'm not even feeling anything and you're twice my size, but you have to promise that you'll be careful." Dudley promised that he would, and after Piers agreed, he walked up to the girl whom he had just insulted, and who had insulted him back tenfold.

"Look, I'm sorry about what happened – let me make it up to you."

"How are you gonna do that?" she replied icily.

"I'm gonna buy you more than you and your friends had to begin with, that's how."

"No, but how are you gonna do that – the local is closed."

Dudley thought the best idea at this time was to play up to a bad boy image. "I'm going to nick a car – no big deal." The girl seemed to warm up to him immediately.

"Look – I'm sorry about what I said back there – I didn't mean it – I was just –"

"No worries," said Dudley, "just stay right here – I'll be back in a minute."

As he left the girl to return to her friends he walked up to Piers and in little more than a whisper said, "Give me your dad's spare keys and play dumb – she thinks I'm nicking a car."

It was at this point that Dudley's mind went completely blank. Try as he might, he couldn't remember anything else that had happened. Not if he had taken the car, not what happened between him and the girl, he couldn't even remember how he had gotten home. A few minutes later, there was a gentle knock on his bedroom door, which despite it's delicacy sounded like a jack hammer.

"Diddy? Diddykins? Are you awake yet, sweetie?"

His bedroom door opened and his mother entered, carrying a tray laden with all his favorite breakfast foods as well as an entire pitcher of water and a bottle of aspirin. With great effort, Dudley sat up, allowing his mother to put the tray on his lap.

He noticed as he began to eat that his mother was looking at him very strangely. It was obvious that he was busted, that she knew he had been drinking, but she didn't look angry, as he had expected. She looked... well... terrified.

"Diddykins?"

"_May as well get this over with." _"Yes mum?"

"How do you feel?"

"Bad headache, stomach's a little dodgy." "_Why was she tiptoeing around what she wanted to ask?" _"Mum?"

"Yes dear?"

"I don't really remember everything that happened last night." The look on his mother's face completely disarmed him. It seemed to be a combination of shock and hope. "_What the hell was going on?_"

Petunia immediately became all business. Like a detective interrogating a crime suspect, she pressed Dudley for every piece of information he could remember from the night before. After Dudley had recounted everything he could remember, Petunia asked him, "Are you sure that's everything? There's nothing else you remember?"

"That's it, mum. What did happen? Is everything okay?"

Petunia let out something in between a sob and a laugh as the tension visibly drained from her body. "_Why is she acting like a nutter?"_

"Everything is fine, Duddums. No one got hurt last night... but you could have died – what were you thinking, driving drunk?" Her tone quickly shifted as she assumed her matriarchal role. She spent the next half hour tearing him a new one as she lectured him about the dangers of drunk driving, and that if it ever happened again Vernon would find out about it. Dudley vacillated between the guilt of knowing that he had really messed up, the pounding of his head as his mother scolded him, and the relieving thought that at least she was acting normally again. When she had finished, she kissed him on the forehead, took his tray of empty plates, and left the room with the words, "Try to get some more sleep, sweetie."

Dudley pulled the covers over his head. The food had helped to quell the queasy feeling in his stomach and the massive pressure inside his skull was starting to ebb away thanks to the aspirin. Within a few minutes, he was sound asleep.

When he finally awoke, he noticed it was dark outside. "_God, how long was I asleep?_" He looked at the alarm clock on his night table, which read 11:50 p.m. "_I must have been really knackered_!" He felt his stomach start to rumble and hoped that his mum had left a dinner plate for him. He trundled down the stairs and saw that his parents were both still awake. He could not ever remember his father looking happier.

"Um, Daddy?" Vernon turned from the telly to look at his son. The angry expression Dudley had expected to form never did. Still beaming, his father said, "Morning,Dudders," and added a chuckle.

"You're not mad? About... last night?"

Vernon let out another small laugh. "All teenagers experiment, Dudley. I did when I was your age, and to tell you the truth, I'd been expecting it." Dudley knew there was no way his father would have been this flippant about the subject if he knew that his son had been driving. "Besides," his father continued, "there is nothing you could ever do that could spoil my mood today." Vernon's smile got even wider. "For in – " Vernon glanced at his watch, "seven minutes' time, that no-good freeloader will be out of our lives, never to darken our door again. You should have waited, Dudley – we could have celebrated with a drink tonight!" He finished this missive with a cackle of glee. Out of the corner of his eye, Dudley could have sworn he saw the flash of a dirty look cross his mother's face, but when he looked at her, she seemed to be smiling benignly.

Dudley went to the kitchen where his mother had left a plate of food warming in the oven. He sat at the kitchen table and began to eat, silently thanking his maker that it was his cousin's birthday – he was sure it was the only reason he had dodged such a serious bullet. He thoughts were broken by his father's voice, who was, Dudley realized, counting off the seconds to midnight as if it were New Years Eve.

"Ten!"

"Nine!"

"Eight!"

"Seven!"

"Six!"

"Five!"

Suddenly there were loud popping noises coming from the street, echoed by the roar coming from his father.

"What the effing hell?"

Dudley put his fork down and went towards the living room to see his father looking out the window.

"Ruddy freaks!" Vernon shouted. "Effing freaks as far as the eye can see! Boy! Get down here!" Dudley saw that his uncle didn't need to call his cousin as Harry was already at the top of the stairs with his wand out. His mother meanwhile was trying in vain to pull her husband away from the window.

"Vernon! We need to get out of here!" Petunia shouted, vainly pulling on one of his beefy arms. "Dudley help me!" Dudley ran to the window to help pull his father away. What he saw through the window made him freeze on the spot. Outside the Dursley home, he saw dozens of figures in the middle of what was quite obviously a firefight, but that wasn't what had frightened him to the point of immobility. It was those... things. The things that had attacked him two summers ago. It had been so cold. He tried to hit them, to fight them off, but his fists just bounced off of them. It was then that all of his energy had left him and he had slumped to the ground. He'd had only one thought back then as the disgusting creatures hovered above him: "_Kill yourself, you fat, useless bastard... kill yourself." _His mother screaming in his ear brought him back to the present. "Dudley! Help me, for god's sake!" Snapping out of it, he grabbed his father around the middle and heaved with all of his might, managing to get his father away from the window.

Just then, the front door burst open. As a short man with a rather ugly, lumpy face ran across the threshold, a beam of light came from the top of the stairs and caught him square in the chest, sending him flying back out the door. His wand, however, flew to the top of the stairs where Dudley saw his cousin snatch it out of midair and pocket it.

"Vernon! We need to get out of here! Dudley! Let's go! Out the back door now!" Petunia and Dudley were in the midst of trying to drag Vernon towards the kitchen when the living room wall burst open and three wizards in black robes and masks stepped through. Vernon's face turned purple with rage as he threw Dudley and his wife off of him. "Get the hell out of my house, you bloody freaks!" he raged, but the three wizards merely laughed as one of them pointed his wand at Vernon. In an instant, Dudley saw his father hanging in mid air by his ankle, the wizards laughingly mocking him. The next thing Dudley saw was the blood red color of rage. His body began shaking violently with anger, and for some odd reason the whole house seemed to follow suit. Picture frames were falling off of the walls, vases were exploding, cracks were appearing in the ceiling, and everyone, including the wizards who were bullying his father, seemed to be looking at him with their mouths agape.

It was if time had stopped for an instant. Everyone in the room, including Harry, was staring at Dudley, who seemed to have no idea what was going on around him. Dudley looked at the three wizards with a murderous glare and screamed, "Get off of my dad!" As he did, part of the ceiling gave way as the bathtub from upstairs plummeted downwards landing squarely on top of the three wizards. As torrents of water cascaded into the sitting room, Vernon fell to the ground with a thud and time sped up again. Dudley and Petunia helped Vernon up and the three of them ran towards the kitchen. Two more masked wizards appeared, stepping over their comrades as Harry sprinted down the stairs. Dudley looked back to see another jet of light come from his cousin's wand and hit one of the wizards in the chest, causing his entire body to become rigid and topple over. The other wizard, a woman who Dudley thought could have been pretty except for the leer on her face, shouted something like "abra cadabra," and a green light flashed from her wand, hitting his cousin squarely in the head.

Harry's body crumpled to the floor, glasses askew, and mouth hanging open, his arms and legs at odd angles. Dudley didn't need to take a pulse to know that his cousin was dead. As the woman let out a shriek of glee, she was hit in the back by a jet of light and as she fell, another wizard entered the house stepping over her. This wizard looked like shite, Dudley thought. His robes were threadbare and patched, his hair was turning prematurely grey, and the lines in his face made him look much older than he probably was.

Upon seeing Harry in the hallway to the kitchen, the wizard broke down in tears and screamed, "No! Oh, Merlin, No! What did you do?" He ran to the lifeless corpse, knelt beside it and began weeping. "No, no, not you, not like this." The wizard began to smooth Harry's hair back, crying over him. More explosions in the street seemed to pull the wizard back to reality. He looked back through the blown out wall of the Dursley home. Turning back, he stood up, heaving Harry's lifeless body into an upright position and spun around once before he and Harry's body disappeared right before Dudley's eyes.

OOOOOOOOOOO

**Authors Note: **I would like to thank my beta Laurabeth, who has been incredibly helpful in spotting all of the little details I have missed. She has made this story so much better than it was before. I couldn't have done this without her.


	4. Snape's First Question

Remus Lupin appeared outside the Burrow with a faint pop, a lifeless body in his arms. He was sobbing violently, his eyes almost swollen shut with grief. He tried to get a grip to no avail. Moving awkwardly, he stumbled to the door and knocked loudly with his foot. There was the sound of movement coming from the house followed by the voice of Molly Weasley. "Who's there?" she called out. "It's Remus Molly" he choked out, "please let me in."

"What's your favorite – "

"Open the bloody door Molly!" he raged. The door flew open and Molly Weasley appeared looking positively livid. Her anger immediately gave way to fear when she saw the lifeless form in Remus' arms. "Oh Merlin no!" she exclaimed, hurrying the man inside and locking the door behind her. Lupin made a beeline to the living room. "Remus what happened?" Molly called after him. She entered the living room to find him delicately arranging the lifeless form of Harry on the sofa. Ignoring her and pulling out his wand, he pointed it at the boy and cast a restoring spell. His body began to heave with bitter sorrow as Harry's hair turned a bright shade of bubblegum pink, while the boy's face became more heart shaped and lumps began to grow on his chest slowly turning into breasts. Remus fell to his knees sobbing violently over the woman he loved with all of his heart. Molly instinctively got to her knees and enveloped him in a motherly hug, gently pulling his head to her shoulder, joining him in his tears.

The two of them stayed on the living room floor for what seemed like hours, holding on to each other for support, their tears of grief soaking each other's clothing. When they had both finally composed themselves enough to speak, Molly voice came out in a whisper. "Remus dear, what happened? What went wrong? How could this have happened to her?"

"She wasn't where she was supposed to be." He answered, in little more than a rasp, "I found her in the downstairs hallway. What the hell was she thinking leaving the bedroom? She was specifically told not to leave Harry's room!" Molly tightened her hold on him as his tears started anew. She held him close to her, trying to keep her thoughts off of Arthur and the twins, who were probably still at Privet drive in a firefight with Death Eaters. If anything should happen to them -

Her thoughts were cut off as a burst of flames appeared in the fireplace. Arthur Weasley stepped out of the hearth looking incredibly dirty and shaken, but apparently uninjured. "Oh Arthur!" Molly exclaimed, "... are you alright?" Remus looked up at Molly, indicating that he was okay and that she should go to her husband. She bolted to him, nearly crushing the man in her arms. "I'm fine Molly. The boys are fine too. They should be along any minute now." Mr. Weasley's face turned ashen as his eyes fell upon Nymphadora Tonks. His eyes darted to Remus. One glimpse of the man told him everything he needed to know. Lupin looked away from Arthur, praying he wouldn't say anything. He had just regained his composure and was not particularly keen about going to pieces again.

Molly, seeming to sense this, took her husband's hand and led him to the kitchen. "Come Arthur, help me make a pot of tea and some sandwiches. Remus silently thanked her, and once they were out of the room, rested his head on his dead love's shoulder, eyes closed, caressing her hair, until his physical and mental exhaustion caught up with him.

He was not sure how long he had dozed, but it must have been a while, for he regained consciousness to the sound of many voices emanating from the kitchen. Gently kissing Tonks on the forehead, he got to his feet and lumbered towards the kitchen in a daze. Sitting at the table laden with tea and sandwiches were Arthur and Molly, Moody, and the Weasley twins. All conversation ceased the minute he entered the room. "Come have a seat Remus" Molly cooed sympathetically, "try to eat something." Remus did as he was told, despite the fact that he was not even remotely hungry. Mrs. Weasley plated a sandwich and poured a cup of tea, setting them in front of him.

The kitchen was silent as a tomb. Finally it was Fred who spoke. "Remus mate, we... we're really sorry." He had never seen either of the Weasley twins look the way they did right now. They had a haunted look that went beyond misty eyed sympathy. It was as if their world of laughter and practical jokes had been utterly shattered. Molly shot a scandalized look at her son, but Remus waved her off immediately. "It's okay Molly. Thank you Fred, George, I'm glad I have your friendship at a time like this."

Moody spoke next. "I'm sorry to do this Remus but we need to talk. We need to find out what happened. The plan got completely mucked up and we need to figure out what went wrong." Molly blanched at Moody's businesslike demeanor. "Alastor!" But again Lupin waved her off. Moody was right. This was wartime. "It's okay Molly, we need to talk about this sooner rather than later, what about the rest of the order?"

"Kingsley and Hestia are busy modifying the memories of the Dursleys and their neighbors, we sent Diggle and Doge to St. Mungos, and McGonagall should be here shortly."

"Are they okay, Daedelus and Elph-?"

"They'll be fine." Moody answered, and elaborated no further."

"Bill and Charlie are on their way to England" Fred offered.

"Should be here sometime this morning" added George.

Remus allowed himself a small smile. At least the twins were still finishing each other's sentences. That was something to be thankful for.

The fireplace in the living room roared to life. The next sound they heard was Minerva McGonagall. "Merlin's beard!" McGonagall came swiftly into the kitchen, obviously shaken by what she had just seen. Her pale, grim visage reinforced what he already knew but did not want to believe – Nymphadora Tonks was dead.

"Now that Minerva is here we can get started." Moody's businesslike demeanor had not lessened. Remus looked away as McGonagall's expression gave way to pity.

"Perhaps this is not the right time Alastor." Minerva's lips were becoming very thin.

"It's okay." Remus interrupted – there was no reason to go through all of this again, "we need to address this."

After Moody, Arthur and the twins had given their accounts of the battle that raged in the street in front of number four, Privet Drive, Lupin related what he had seen once he entered the house.

Arthur interjected before anyone could react. "Molly dear, perhaps we should use a silencing charm before we continue. I'm not sure I want the children hearing any of this." He turned his gaze towards Fred and George, "Not a word."

"What do you take us for?" George started.

"We can be serious." added Fred.

"When we have to." finished George.

"I'm one step ahead of you dear." Mrs. Weasley declared, "I put silencing charms on their doors as soon as they retired. I expected there to be a debriefing tonight, although I wasn't expecting... well... besides," she continued, "poor Harry couldn't hear anything even if he wanted to. He took that dreamless sleep potion that Tonks gave him when they switched places."

"She gave him what?" Lupin asked, more than a little surprised.

"Harry told me about it right before he went to bed. He said that Tonks had given him a dreamless sleep potion, and told him to take it tonight in case You Know Who tried to use Legilimency on him. She wanted to make sure that You Know Who would have no reason to suspect that Harry wasn't at Privet Drive." 

"Why didn't she tell me about that?" Remus asked aloud, not really addressing anyone in particular. His mind went into overdrive. "_What the hell had Tonks been playing at? She had been at Privet Drive for three days. Voldemort could have used Legilimency at any time during that period and discovered the ruse. Why only give Harry one potion for the last night? And why didn't she tell the order what she was doing?_" Remus felt his stomach clench into a hard ball as the seemingly innocuous comment she had made last week rocketed into his consciousness.

They had been in bed, their glistening sweaty bodies entangled. She was laying feathery kisses on his neck. The sex had been wonderful, but now, in the afterglow, he was a million miles away.

"Remus?"

"Mmmm?"

"You seem a little distant. Are you okay?"

Remus let out a sigh. He knew that he should be present with his lover right now, but his mind was on Harry.

"I'm fine, it's just... Harry. How many more people can he stand to lose before he's unable to go on? Vold-" Tonks flinched, "You Know Who is aware of this. He's going to keep killing the people closest to Harry in order to break his will. All we can do is be cautious, but eventually he'll get to one of us. The children are being completely reckless. If he gets to Ron, Hermione or Ginny it just might put Harry over the edge. He told me that he broke things off with Ginny in an effort to protect her, but You Know Who isn't stupid. He'll find out about their feelings for each other whether they're together or not."

Tonks was silent for a long time. "What?" Remus inquired.

"Nothing. I was just thinking that You Know Who would probably lay off of them if he thought that Harry was out of the way. He also might act rashly – make a mistake if he thought that the prophecy could no longer be fulfilled."

"Well, unfortunately, there's no way to accomplish that without actually killing Harry."

Tonks went silent again. Finally she spoke; "No... I guess not." After a few seconds of silence, she grinned a naughty grin and kissed him deeply as she pulled herself on top of him. Not surprisingly, he hadn't given what she had said another thought until now.

During the days that followed, Tonks was more passionate than he had ever seen her. Any time they had a minute alone together, she wanted to make love. She was much more touchy feely in public as well, constantly holding his hand, or alternately, his ass cheek. She told him that she loved him every time they spoke. Her affection was certainly appreciated at the time and Remus hadn't thought anything odd of it – he was too busy enjoying it.

At the next order meeting, Tonks had brought up the plan they had used tonight. The order had expected the Death Eaters to attack Privet Drive the minute Harry turned into a man. Tonks suggested that she use her skills as a Metamorphmagus to impersonate Harry for the couple of days leading up to his birthday while Harry was kept safely at the Burrow. She was supposed to let the Death Eaters see her at the Dursleys, but at the first sign of trouble, she was to apparate away immediately. The order could see no fault with the plan, so they set it into action.

As Remus Lupin returned to the present, the facts clicked themselves into place like cylinders in a lock. He bolted upright and ran up the stairs two at a time to Ron's bedroom, where he knew Harry would be. The rest of the order followed, calling after him, startled by his strange behavior. Lupin wrested the bedroom door open and turned on the light. Ron looked up from his pillow bleary eyed. "Hmione?"

The rest of the order were now crowding inside the bedroom, making it rather cramped. Arthur, looking like he thought that Lupin may have cracked after losing Tonks, slowly stepped towards him. "Remus? We should let the children sleep. What are you doing?" Lupin ignored him and went straight to Harry's nightstand where an potion vial lay emptied of it's contents. He uncorked the vial and put it to his nose. Dread quickly spread across his features. He dipped his finger into the vial taking up some of the residue with his finger and touched it to his tongue. "_Son of a bitch! Nymphadora, what were you thinking?"_

Ron was fully awake now. "What the bloody - ?

Molly cut him off with "Ronald! Language!"

Remus turned to McGonagall and spoke sharply. "Minerva go back to Hogwarts and bring Poppy back with you now!" McGonagall's eyebrows were raised so high they threatened to somersault over the back of her head.

"Professor Lupin." She replied, her lips growing increasingly thin, "What the devil is going on?"

He thrust the empty vial at her. "This isn't dreamless sleep potion - it's draught of the living death – get Poppy now!"

The room collectively gasped and Ron leapt out of bed. "What?" the redhead bellowed, "Tonks said it was a dreamless – "

"I know what Tonks said!" Lupin cried. "Arthur, help me get Harry downstairs. The rest of you make way. Moody – take the boys and set up a hospital bed in the living room."

Minerva headed down the stairs as fast as her legs would carry her. She was quickly followed by the rest of the order.

"I'll help you." offered Ron.

Molly chafed. "You'll do no such thing Ronald Bilius Weasley. You will remain in your room until this is sorted out!"

"Like bloody hell I will! I'm legally an adult! I'm coming downstairs."

"As long as you live in this house you will obey my rules!"

"Fine – I'll move out tomorrow morning! In the meantime, I'm not leaving his side!" Ron was breathing heavily, his ears turning a very dangerous color of red.

"That's enough! Both of you!" Lupin had never seen Arthur Weasley angry before, and he had to admit it was a truly terrifying sight to behold. He was shaking, and his face had turned the color of an over ripe tomato. He was silently thankful that it didn't happen very often.

"Molly, Ron is a grown man and Harry is his best friend. He has a right to know what is going on. Ronald, help me and Remus get Harry downstairs... and... don't raise your voice to your mother." he added, as he saw Molly fix him with a withering glare. Ron immediately went to help his father as his mother left the room muttering to herself.

Arthur immediately cast a widening spell on the doorframe and the staircase to ensure that Harry would not be hurt on the trip downstairs. Remus meanwhile had uttered "Mobilicorpus", while Ron kept his hands on his best friend, gently guiding his body out of the bedroom and down the stairs. When they reached the landing, they found that Moody and the twins had already transformed the living room into an infirmary. The sofa on which Tonks was lain had been transfigured into a proper hospital bed, and the sheets had been pulled up over her face. The sight made Remus' stomach lurch, and it took a great deal of effort for him to steady himself. He guided Harry to a second bed on the other side of the room, set the boy down gently, and then with nothing left to do until Madam Pomfrey arrived, excused himself.

He sat down at the kitchen table, and with a deep groan, he closed his eyes and let his head rest in his hands. A moment later he could sense someone entering the kitchen. He knew it had to be Arthur since Ron, Molly and Moody were definitely not going to leave Harry's side until McGonagall had returned with Poppy, and there was no way the twins could ever enter a room silently – even at a time like this. He looked up at the Weasley patriarch sitting across from him. He found Arthur's look of deep concern both reassuring and unsettling at the same time. He needed time alone to process everything. He would not have that luxury however, until Poppy assured him that Harry would be okay.

Arthur Weasley gently cleared his throat and then spoke tentatively. "I don't understand what's going on Remus. This doesn't make any sense. Why would she give the boy draught of the living death? Why would she keep it from us?" Lupin thought to himself that he actually preferred it this way. Just talking to Arthur one on one about this was a hell of a lot easier than dealing with the whole order at once.

"She gave him that potion so that Voldemort would think he was dead." he said simply. Arthur looked at him questioningly.

Remus spoke as if in a daze. "It was never her intent to return from Privet Drive Arthur." Remus watched Mr. Weasley suck in a breath as the man realized what Remus was getting at. "She planned it all. She thought that if Voldemort thought that Harry was dead, he would stop targeting the people who are closest to him."

"Specifically Ginny." Arthur sighed.

"Ron and Hermione too I imagine."

"Remus I'm so sorry – I... I don't know what to say." Remus let out something between a snort and a bitter laugh. "I don't know what to say either Arthur. I would appreciate it if you told the rest of the order about this. I don't think I'm up to it right now."

"Of course."

The men heard the fireplace roar to life which meant that Minerva was back with Madam Pomfrey.

As Moody came back into the kitchen to inform the men that the healer had arrived, Remus rose from his seat. "Arthur, Alastor, I'm going to step outside for a minute. I need a little time to clear my head."

"That's fine Remus, we'll come get you if there's any news. Alastor, perhaps Poppy should have a little time alone with her patient." Moody simply nodded and the two of them went to round everyone up.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Ron was sitting in the armchair next to Harry's bed when Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey stepped out of the fireplace. The healer was all business before she had even brushed the ashes off of her robe.

"I need one of you to go to a muggle hospital. You're going to have to nick two drugs – the first is called 'epinephrine'. It's what muggles use to treat patients who are in cardiac arrest – I've found it to be quite effective in waking people out of the slumber produced by the draught. Had the situation been different, Ron would have found himself laughing at the thought of his father drinking in every word of Madam Pomfrey's lecture on muggle medicine.

The second is called 'adrenaline. Muggles use it on heroin addicts who overdose – in this instance, once Harry is awake, we are going to use the adrenaline to keep him awake for 48 hours until the danger of him falling back into a coma has passed." The twins were in the fireplace before anyone could argue – not that anyone could. Breaking and entering and petty theft were probably best left to Fred and George.

"Molly, what time did Harry go to bed?"

"The boys went to bed around eleven." This was clearly not what Madam Pomfrey wanted to hear. "What's wrong?" Molly asked, when she saw the healer's face.

"The longer it's in the system, the trickier it is to get the person to wake up again. It's already been five hours."

"Can't have been more than two hours." Ron interjected, "we stayed up talking 'till two in the morning. I remember looking at the clock and saying we ought to get some sleep. Harry didn't drink it 'till then."

Madam Pomfrey looked like she could kiss him. "That's very good news, it's easiest to deal with if it's been in the system for less than four hours. I hope your brothers hurry."

At this point Moody announced that everyone was needed in the kitchen. His mother gave him a look that clearly stated that he was to stay in the living room. He wanted to know what was happening, but was too tired to argue. Besides, he didn't want the healer to be distracted from her work while he and his mother shouted at each other again.

There was nothing for Ron to do at this point but wait for the twins to get back. He had thought about going to wake Hermione to tell her what had happened, despite the argument he and his mother had had about it while his father was in the kitchen with Professor Lupin. Mum didn't want Ginny to know what was going on yet, and since she and Hermione were sharing a room, waking Hermione meant possibly waking Ginny.

He had to admit his mother had a point, but he had a point too. Hermione was just as close to Harry as he was, and besides, he wanted her here. Sitting here, looking at his friend lying in the bed next to him, he felt... lonely? No... more like... not whole. She was right upstairs yet he felt a terrible longing. He... missed her. He wanted her here next to him, holding his hand, reciting 8 million facts that she had read in potion textbooks that proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that Harry would be okay. He experienced a sudden stab of guilt that his mind was on Hermione instead of his friend lying in a coma. He was brought out of it by the roar of the fireplace.

Fred and George had returned each carrying two large boxes. Madam Pomfrey immediately accosted them for the medicines.

"That was fast boys, good jo- How much did you take?" The healer was staring at them wide eyed.

"We didn't know how much we'd need," replied Fred

"So we took the lot." his brother finished.

"You took it all?"

"That is what 'the lot' means," said George.

"According to the Oxford English Dictionary anyway," added Fred.

"Although the word does have other meanings as well, brother of mine,"

"Yes, but we certainly didn't break into a hospital to steal a tract of land,"

"Can't steal a tract of land anyway – we'd have no where to put it."

Madam Pomfrey looked positively scandalized. She quickly took what she needed from the boxes and then shouted at the twins. "Get the rest of that back to the hospital now! They might need that! People could be dying as we speak! Off with you! Go!" Fred and George, looking sheepish, leapt back into the floo and after a few spins, were gone.

Ron had to admire the way Madam Pomfrey worked. She was completely focused and efficient, not wasting a single movement. He had been completely absorbed in watching her work when a sleepy voice from the landing made him almost jump out of his chair.

"Ron, it's four in the morning why is everybody – "

He turned to see Hermione growing paler by the second, panic was already creeping into her voice. "Ron, what's wrong with Harry? Why is he-"

Ron intercepted her in his arms as she practically flew towards Harry's bed. Taking her hands in his, he stared at her intently and said; "It's okay Hermione, Harry's going to be fine. Madam Pomfrey will take care of everything."

"What happened?"

"Remember that dreamless sleep potion that Tonks gave to Harry? Well it was draught of the living death with some muggle food coloring in it."

"This has Mundungus Fletcher written all over it. He must have sold it to her! she hissed.

"I don't think so. The Order is in the kitchen talking about it now, but it looks like Tonks gave it to him on purpose."

"She wouldn't do that Ron. Not unless she'd been Imperiused."

"I honestly don't know Hermione, but I got the impression that Professor Lupin figured something out. We'll know soon enough I expect." The look of concern on Hermione's face was slowly being overtaken by anger.

"Were you planning on waiting until tomorrow to tell me all of this?"

"I wanted to wake you up and tell you but mum doesn't want Ginny to know yet. I already got into a screaming match with her twice tonight, and if it happened again I think dad would've hexed us both. I'm sorry Hermione, I really am. I wanted you down here with me so badly, I... I missed you."

It was then that Ron noticed that they were still holding hands. He felt the blood rushing to his face and realized there was no way for him hide from her the fact that he was blushing. Hermione seemed to warm up to him almost instantly, her annoyance at him forgotten.

"It's okay Ron. Your mom is having a hard time admitting that we're not kids anymore." she said quietly, looking into his eyes. He felt his ears getting hot as her thumb started to gently rub the inside of his hand. The spell was broken by the sounds of gagging and spluttering. Hermione's eyes went wide as she let go of Ron's hands. "Harry! Oh my god Harry! – are you alright?" Ron whipped around quickly to see his friend sitting upright, Madam Pomfrey holding him steady with one hand while conjuring water into a glass. He was wild eyed and panting heavily.

OOOOOOOOOOO

**Author's Note:** I would like to thank my wonderful beta Laurabeth, who continually makes this story better than it was without her.


	5. Trust

Severus Snape was awakened by an intense burning in his arm. The Dark Lord was summoning him. Every muscle in his body ached terribly. The Cruciatus curse he'd received had been particularly prolonged and vindictive and it would take a few days for his body to recover. The Dark lord had been angry with him for killing Dumbledore. His exact words were: "What good are you to me now that you can no longer spy on the order Severus? You have made yourself disposable and you have no one but yourself to blame." "_And you thought being stuck teaching a bunch of talentless snotbags was a shit job."_ he thought to himself.

His only consolation was that the Cruciatus curse he had experienced was nothing compared to what the Dark Lord had done to Draco. If he had known what Voldemort had in store for the boy, he never would have returned with him. He was a good enough Occlumens that he could have hidden the boy somewhere on the continent and maintained ignorance of his whereabouts, something he still might eventually do should the boy end up in danger of being killed. Voldemort had always been cruel and slow to forgive, but for the past year he was even more sadistic than usual.

He had not been invited to be part of the cache of Death Eaters that attacked Privet Drive in an attempt to kidnap Harry Potter. He had been left out of the loop, not as any sort of punishment, but because Voldemort knew that sending someone recovering from such a severe Cruciatus curse could completely botch the mission. Bellatrix Lestrange, he noted, had gotten off with nothing more than a verbal warning for being the bonder of the unbreakable vow. If it had been last summer, she would have received the same punishment as him. _"Not only is he becoming more sadistic, but his behavior had become increasingly erratic."_ Snape of course, knew exactly why the dark Lord was slowly coming unhinged, but sharing that particular piece of information would certainly send him to an early grave. He slowly got out of bed and dressed, his body protesting every step of the way. He quickly sucked down two glasses of elf made wine to dull the throbbing pain that had invaded his body and then disapparated from his home at Spinners End.

He was the last Death Eater to arrive at Castle Durmstrang. As usual, Crabbe and Goyle senior were guarding the entrance. "_Not much else they're good for"_ Snape mused, "_Didn't have the intelligence of a flobberworm between them. Loyal as hell though."_ As he entered the castle dungeon, he immediately noticed the absence of Avery and Nott. "_Captured? Killed? He would find out soon enough."_ His eyes met Draco's for a split second. The boy was glaring at him with utter hatred. He had not seen the boy since his punishment and had not been able to explain himself. It would have to wait. He was met with the shrill voice of the Dark Lord.

"You're late Severus, I was beginning to wonder whether you were going to show up at all." From the corner of his eye, he could see Bella smiling smugly. She had obviously thought that she had replaced him as the Dark Lord's favorite. Snape allowed a small smile to cross his own face, causing her to change her expression to the scowl that he was all too familiar with. "Forgive me my lord, my body has been... slow to respond lately." He hoped that volleying the responsibility for his lateness back onto the Dark Lord wasn't about to earn him another session with an unforgivable curse, but it was, in fact, the truth. He had gotten here as quickly as possible. The Dark Lord glared at him, but ultimately seemed satisfied with his answer.

"Events have transpired this evening that were unforeseen." The Dark lord continued. "Firstly, we lost two of our members to..." Voldemort seemed to be struggling to keep his temper in check, "a muggle bathtub that apparently crushed their skulls." The disdain in his voice was palpable.

"_Well, that explains Avery and Nott." _

"Secondly, Bellatrix LeStrange has informed me that she has killed Harry Potter." The room was immediately filled with the murmuring of Death Eaters.

"Silence!" The entire room shook as Voldemort said this last word. Snape knew immediately that Voldemort was about to dish out a string of unforgivables, and furthermore, he knew exactly why. "I have confirmed Bella's story through Legilimency. Harry Potter is indeed deceased." A cheer went up among the Death Eaters, many of them leaving their positions to congratulate Bellatrix who was grinning from ear to ear. Snape, however, knew better than to go anywhere near her, not that he would have wanted to anyway. "_I wouldn't be smiling just yet Bella."_ Snape thought to himself a split second before jets of red light flew from Voldemort's wand, sending the Death Eaters closest to LeStrange flying, knocking them unconscious. The rest of the Death Eaters scattered, scrambling to return to their positions in the semi circle around their leader.

"I specifically told you I wanted him alive!" He was seething, staring straight at Bellatrix Lestrange, his eyes wild with hatred, his wand pointed at her heart. "_Or,"_ Snape supposed, "_where her heart would be if the sadistic bitch had one"_. Bella began to stutter nervously, her voice cracked with a mixture of confusion and terror as she fell to her knees. "M- my l- lord! I... I th... thought you would be pleased! I couldn't! The order was closing in! There was no time to get a hold of him! I had a clear shot! I thought it would please you!"

"It would please me if for once if you would follow my instructions!" he growled through clenched teeth, "Crucio!"

Bellatrix LeStrange fell to the ground screaming. Snape had no pity for her as he watched her body bend like a bow until the only parts of her touching the ground were her heels and the crown of her head. Her blood curdling screams continued for several minutes as she began foaming at the mouth. Her head was twisting wildly from side to side, grinding itself into the flagon stones of the dungeon floor, ripping away chunks of hair and layers of skin.

The other Death Eaters in the room looked on in horror and confusion. They couldn't comprehend why their master was punishing Bella for getting rid of the only obstacle in his path to victory. Snape, however, knew exactly why Voldemort was so angry at this turn of events. Voldemort wanted to kill the boy himself – it was his dearest desire, more so even, than ruling the world with an iron fist. Harry Potter had gotten the better of him many times over. It was his way of proving to the wizarding world, and to himself, that he was unstoppable. He also knew something that not even Voldemort was aware of, and that was that Harry Potter couldn't possibly be dead. There was only one person on the planet who could kill Harry Potter without dying himself, and that person was the Voldemort. Eventually Voldemort lifted the curse and Bellatrix collapsed in a heap, holding her knees to her chest, weeping softly as she rocked herself back and forth.

The Dark Lord looked around the room in disgust. "Get out of my sight! All of you!" The frightened Death eaters were quick to respond. Rodolphus picked his wife up as quickly as he could manage and ran from the room cradling her in his arms. Snape turned to leave when Voldemort spoke again.

"Severus." Snape turned to face his master.

"Yes my lord."

"I want her healed as quickly as possible. There is work to be done and I will need every able body available – do not disappoint me."

"Yes my lord." And with that, Snape turned and exited the room.

As it so happened, Snape had already brewed a potion that would rapidly heal the after effects of the Cruciatus curse. He had been tempted to use it himself, but the unfortunate side effect of not being able to close your mind off while the potion helped your body heal was a price too high for Snape to risk, and giving it to Draco would almost certainly guarantee the boy's demise. He'd live with the pain.

Snape apparated home to retrieve the potion he'd need for Bellatrix. As much as it chafed him to help her, it was a slightly better option than facing the Dark Lord's wrath for the second time this week. As he stepped through the doorway, a jet of light hit him in the back. His body went completely rigid and he fell through the threshold, landing flat on his face. After he heard the door close, a foot connected with his ribs sending shockwaves of pain through his body.

He was rolled onto his back and found himself looking up at Draco Malfoy.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Harry Potter was in hell. It had been so peaceful before. Nothing but blackness. Nothing to see, nothing to hear, nothing to worry about, just sweet dreamless unconsciousness. At some point he could briefly feel Voldemort's vague presence poking around, but Harry couldn't care less. Voldemort couldn't reach him here. Harry allowed that thought to comfort him as he sank deeper and deeper into the soothing darkness.

He was yanked out of it suddenly as his heart began to palpitate wildly. He bolted upright as his body returned to consciousness. He was panting heavily and he couldn't focus on anything. Sweat was pouring from every part of his body, and within seconds, his pajamas were completely soaked through. There were people all around him. He felt like he knew them somehow, but he couldn't quite place them. He tried to speak to them, but the only thing coming out of his mouth was garbled gibberish. They were speaking back to him, but it didn't sound like language. Just random syllables that didn't make any sense.

All he wanted to do was sleep, but they wouldn't let him. This awful woman kept sticking needles into his arm at regular intervals, and it seemed that the rest of them were watching him in shifts. Every time he started to doze off they would shake him awake again and call out to that awful she devil who would promptly stick another needle in his arm, which sent his heart racing again. The worst were the two that looked exactly alike – or was he seeing double? Instead of shaking him awake, they set off small explosions which not only brought him back to consciousness but brought needle woman running into the room.

At one point he had even tried to attack his captors in a futile bid at freedom. People came from every direction and tackled him, holding him fast to the bed. From that point on he had been secured to the bed tightly with ropes, effectively preventing any means of escape.

After what seemed like months of sleeplessness, Harry began sobbing violently. He couldn't take this anymore. He tried to communicate with the girl who was watching over him. He knew she wouldn't understand a word he was saying, but he had to try. She had frail, gossamer features and thick, fiery red hair, her alabaster face dotted with freckles. Harry would have said she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen had she not been one of his tormentors;

"Why are you doing this to me?" he choked through his sobs. "Why won't you let me sleep?_"_

To his astonishment, the girl looked at him in shock. To his further surprise, she also began to cry, looking at him with what could only be described as pity and sorrow. With tears flowing down her now reddened cheeks, she climbed into the bed next to him and buried her face in his chest. He could feel her body heaving uncontrollably next to his, his shirt wet with her tears. She lifted her head and looked into his eyes, stroking his cheek softly with her tiny fingers. She leaned in and kissed him on the mouth, her hot salty tears saturating his cheeks. It was the most intense thing he had ever felt in his life. Jolts of electricity shot upwards through his spine.

"Come back to me Harry, please come back to me," She pleaded through her tears.

Harry's eyes widened in shock. He had understood her! She was talking to him and it was making sense!

"Please help me!" he replied desperately, "if you don't let me sleep you're going to kill me!"

"You can't sleep yet Harry," she said through her tears, "I can't let you. I need you to come back to me Harry. God I love you so much!"

She began sobbing in his arms again, and then did something quite unexpected. Harry watched in amazement as she pulled out a wooden rod roughly a foot long, and pointed it at the ropes that were fixing him to the bed. The next thing he knew, the ropes had vanished! She had freed him! Harry sat up, looking at the girl with trepidation, not quite knowing what to do next.

The girl gently pulled him into her arms and began to kiss him passionately. He instinctively kissed her back, his tongue gently exploring her lips. She responded with a heavy sigh as her soft pink tongue darted into his mouth and began softly caressing his tongue in kind. Harry had no idea how long he had been kissing this beautiful angel, all he knew was that he never wanted it to end. Their lips parted and the girl began to softly kiss her way up to his earlobe, which she gingerly began to nibble.

"Come back to me Harry," she whispered, her hot breath entering his ear making his entire body shudder with delight.

"Oh god Ginny," he moaned softly. The girl immediately stopped what she was doing and stared at him with a mixture of hope and longing.

"Harry?" she cried, nearly hysterical, looking for any sign of recognition in his eyes. "Harry, please say something!"

The world came crashing in on him like a train wreck. His memories flooding into him quicker than he could register. He looked around for a moment in shock, blinking his eyes rapidly, completely unaware of how he'd ended up in the sitting room. He focused on Ginny, who was for some reason in bed with him holding him in her arms.

"Ginny what are you doing? If your mother sees us she's going to go spare!"

"Harry!" Ginny screamed as she pulled him into a bone crushing hug. Harry could tell by the way she was shaking that she was crying. "_What the hell was going on?"_

"Oh thank Merlin Harry! I was so scared you wouldn't come back!" she choked out through her tears.

Her scream had brought everyone running into the living room like the cavalry, with Madam Pomfrey leading the charge. The healer gently pulled Ginny away from him and proceeded to run her wand over his body. When she had finished, she let out a sigh of relief. A huge smile appeared on her face as she faced everyone in the living room and nodded. "He's back."

The living room erupted into ear splitting cheers. The twins were doing a jig in the middle of the living room. Surprisingly, Mrs. Weasley joined them. Ron and Hermione rushed Harry's bed and practically dove on top of him.

"Let the boy breathe for Merlin's sake!" Poppy admonished.

Ron looked as if the Chudley Cannons had just won the world cup. Hermione was weeping tears of joy and Ginny was gently smoothing his hair.

"Have you all gone mental?"

"Oh god Harry!" Hermione sputtered, laughing and crying at the same time. "We weren't sure if you were going to make it."

"You scared the crap out of us mate" added Ron.

"What are you talking about Hermione?" Why was everyone acting so weird?

After everyone had settled down, Molly made a beeline to the kitchen to start preparing a huge 'welcome back' feast. She practically had to physically wrest Ginny from the room in order to get her to come help. Madam Pomfrey gave Harry a potion to restore his strength and promised to check in on him tomorrow.

Hermione, Ron, and the twins took seats around Harry's bed. Now that the atmosphere had calmed down, Harry noticed another empty bed in the living room. Seeing him looking at it caused everyone in the room to stir uncomfortably while casting sideways glances at each other. Harry, sensing the tension in the room, felt a feeling of dread creeping up on him.

"Hermione, Ron, what's going on? Who was in that bed?"

Hermione's face dropped. Harry could tell that she was trying to sugarcoat her answer.

"A lot of terrible things have happened Harry." Her eyes were fixed on him as she seemed to be struggling with how to start. Ron took her hand in his as if it would give her strength. She squeezed his hand, and with a sigh of resignation, plunged forward.

"Tonks is dead Harry." She said, looking away from him as if it would lessen the blow.

Harry had not expected this. The only word he could manage to utter was "How?"

"At Privet Drive" Ron continued, "Bellatrix LeStrange used the killing curse."

Bellatrix LeStrange. In his darkest fantasies Harry had always managed to leave that particular death for Neville. He still planned on doing that, but he was going to make damn sure she suffered first. Harry's face grew dark.

"So," Harry seethed, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "another person dead because of me – 'The Boy Who Should Have Never Lived.'"

"Don't say that! Hermione castigated, "Don't you dare ever say that again! Tonks is dead because of Voldemort, not because of you!"

Fred immediately jumped into the fray before Harry could reply; "There would be a lot more dead people if it wasn't for you Harry."

"Like our father..." continued George.

"and Ginny..."

"Let's not forget Katie Bell..."

"and the hundreds of people You Know Who would have killed if he hadn't spent 13 years impersonating a light mist..."

"oh... and... Ron... although we're not particularly happy about that one..."

"Alas, into everyone's life, a little rain must fall brother of mine..."

"And let us not overlook the financial juggernaut known as Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes..."

"Which would never have gotten off the ground if not for the generosity of one Harry J. Potter..."

"Which is, incidentally, the only reason we didn't hex you into next year for saving Ron's life."

Harry tried desperately not to laugh and as a result snorted instead. He tried glaring at the twins but gave it up as a bad job. How were they so good at making someone not feel miserable?

"All right, all right. Point taken." Harry knew they were right. He had started down the road of self pity and none of his friends were going to tolerate it. "What about Professor Lupin?" he asked timidly. His biggest fear was that Remus would blame him for Tonks' death.

Hermione knew what Harry was thinking and immediately headed him off. "He's devastated obviously Harry, but don't think for a second that he blames you for all of this. She didn't tell anyone what she was doing – not even him."

Finally. Here was the crux of the matter at last. "What exactly did she do?"

"Basically she sacrificed herself." Ron answered bluntly. "From what Lupin could figure out, she impersonated you with the deliberate idea of letting Voldemort think that one of his Death Eaters had killed you when they were really killing her."

"Why would she do that?" asked Harry, appalled.

"Two reasons as far as anyone in the Order can tell. One; If you're dead, there's no reason to go after me or Hermione or Ginny. Two; If you're dead, he thinks he's unstoppable, which means that hopefully he'll get careless and really muck things up for himself."

"_Three; I can hunt for the Horcruxes in complete anonymity."_ "What the hell has been going on with me? Why am I in a hospital bed? Why were you all acting as if I almost died?"

Hermione jumped in. "You did almost die. That dreamless sleep potion she gave you was really draught of the living death. She wanted to ensure that if Voldemort used Legilimency on you, it would confirm that you were really dead."

"Merlin's bloody testacles!" Harry fumed, "she killed herself and almost killed me so that Voldemort might get careless? That's completely insane!"

"Everyone else thinks so too mate, even Lupin." Ron said, giving him a significant stare, "they think she knew something else that she wasn't letting on about, but none of us can figure out what it is."

"_Could Tonks have known about the Horcruxes? Did Dumbledore fill her in? Is that why she was stationed at Hogwarts? Specifically to protect me?" _The more Harry rolled it around in his brain, the more he could see that it was the only thing that made sense. Voldemort thinking he was out of the way gave him a huge tactical advantage in tracking down the remaining Horcruxes. The other excuses for her self sacrifice were utter bollocks. Harry could tell that Ron and Hermione had already come to the same conclusion, but he couldn't talk to them about anything until they were alone.

"When did your mum say I could move back into your bedroom Ron?"

"She didn't, but I'm hoping for tonight. We can ask her at dinner."

Fred and George immediately started in on their younger brother.

"Is ickle Ronniekins in love with the boy who lived?"

"Want him all to your ickle self do you?"

"I hear you can fall in love with someone who saves your life."

"Be still my heart, Ron has finally found his soul mate."

They were interrupted by Hermione. "I should say he has." She boldly leaned in and planted a passionate kiss on Ron's lips. She stared at the stunned twins, wordlessly defying them to say something. Then, without another word, got up and strutted out of the living room wearing a particularly large smile.

Ron turned a deep shade of crimson, as the rest of the room stared at him open mouthed.

"I n... n... need to help mum with dinner." Ron stammered quickly. See you in a bit Harry." And with that, Ron was out of the room like a shot.

The room was silent as Harry and the twins looked at each other incredulously and then they simultaneously broke out in peals of laughter.

"Did you see Ron's face?"

"It was so red you could have fried an egg on it!"

"I thought he was going to sink right through the floor!"

"It's about bloody time those two got together."

"Well, our dear brother has never been too quick on the uptake."

After the laughter had died down, Harry asked; "Anything else I missed out on?"

"Yeah!" Fred and George answered in unison. "Bill and Charlie are back!"

"When?"

"Two days ago Harry," George answered, "don't you remember? You tried to bum rush Charlie and we had to conjure ropes to keep you tied down."

"Sorry about that mate." added Fred.

"I'm not." declared George, "He looked like he could have murdered us."

"I tried to attack Charlie?" Harry had no recollection of the incident whatsoever. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember anything that had happened while under the influence of the potion.

"Attack is a bit of an understatement. You were punching..."

"Kicking..."

"Biting..."

"Screaming..."

"Gave us quite a scare you did..."

"But all water under the bridge now..."

"Although Charlie might want a word with you about the black eye you gave him."

"At least it will match his 'best man' robes."

Harry had completely forgotten about Bill and Fleur's wedding. The twins informed him that it would be at the Burrow. Bill had spent the last couple of weeks in France with Fleur's relatives, where two days ago, they met up with Charlie, and the three of them returned to England together. They reckoned that most of the ministry would be there seeing as Bill was an elite curse breaker for Gringott's, and Arthur was a ministry employee. Harry knew better; "_They're expecting an attack_."

That evening, Molly prepared a cornucopia of Harry's favorite foods, deciding that this would be his belated birthday dinner.

"I'm sorry dear, with everything that's happened, and the wedding coming up, we haven't had time to shop for presents." Molly Weasley genuinely looked upset.

"No worries Mrs. Weasley. Getting to spend time with my favorite family is present enough."

Molly engulfed Harry in a hug that was bordering on doing spinal damage. "Oh Harry! You are such a sweet boy!" she sniffed.

Professor McGonagall joined them for supper, but the other Order members were too busy to attend. Harry was saddened that Remus Lupin had not shown. He desperately wanted to talk to him about everything that happened.

Mr. Weasley had returned from work absolutely exhausted. After spending the day being grilled by Rufus Scrimgeour and his staff as they tried to spin damage control about the rumors of the chosen one's demise, he was happy to have a hot meal greeting him. Arthur had of course, had lied to Scrimgeour, confirming that Harry Potter was dead. The order had decided that Tonks' death should not be in vain, and that whatever tactical advantages they could gain from the ruse should be taken advantage of. Furthermore, there was not one of them that didn't believe there was something else to the picture that they didn't know about and that Tonks (and Harry and Dumbledore) did.

Scrimgeour in turn, told the exact opposite lie to the Daily Prophet, insisting that Harry was alive and under ministry protection in a location that could not be disclosed for reasons of security. He further stated that Harry was in what he described as advanced auror training, so that when it came time for him to face Voldemort, he would have every possible advantage. Harry was indignant at Mr. Weasley's news.

"So, Scrimgeour is finally using me as the ministry poster boy now that I'm 'dead' and can't say anything to the contrary is that it?." He hissed acidly.

"I'm afraid so" Arthur confirmed, cutting into his pork chop. "Rufus is concerned with public perception more than anything else."

"Is there anyone working in that building besides you who isn't a self centered, corrupt wanker?"

Molly chided him for his foul mouth, and he apologized to her immediately. Arthur hesitated before speaking. "We all want the same thing Harry. Scrimgeour may have different methods, but he wants to stop Voldemort as much as the rest of us."

Harry was truly astonished at how far everyone had come as far as using Voldemort's name was concerned. However that didn't stop him from vehemently disagreeing with Mr. Weasley.

"With all due respect Mr. Weasley, all I see is a man who wants power. How is he any different from Voldemort? How was Fudge any different than Voldemort? The only thing any of them care about is power." Harry knew it was a huge stretch comparing Fudge and Scrimgeour to a homicidal terrorist, but he was trying to make a point.

"The difference is that those men are not willing to do anything to attain power. They will not commit murder or rip families apart to attain power."

"But they will lie won't they? They'll use people to achieve their ends. Like Scrimgeour is using me now."

"Is lying any different than concealing the truth Harry? Concealing the truth from people that only have your best interests at heart?" Both Mrs. Weasley and Professor McGonagall gasped at Arthur's words. Ron and Hermione traded anxious glances.

"This is not a matter of trust sir. You and Mrs. Weasley are the closest thing I've ever had to parents and I trust you both with my life. Even more than that, I love you more than you will ever know, but I made a promise to Dumbledore to keep certain things secret for very good reasons."

"Dumbledore is dead Harry. Things have changed."

"That's where you're wrong sir, nothing has changed."

"Then all I can do is put my faith in you Harry. Molly and I love you as if you were our own. I just pray you know what you're doing. But I would be remiss if I didn't make it clear that I don't like it when you keep secrets from us. Especially things that concern your welfare and the welfare of my children."

"Enough politics at the dinner table." McGonagall interjected looking stern, "This is supposed to be a birthday party is it not?"

Both Arthur and Harry took deep breaths and relaxed, attempting to enjoy the rest of their meal. Harry knew that Mr. Weasley's only concern was for all of their safety, but he was not going to be cajoled into breaking the promise he had made to Dumbledore, at least not until he had destroyed the damned things.

"On to more important matters" she continued, pulling four envelopes from her robes and beaming from ear to ear, "The school governors have decided that Hogwarts shall remain open. Since I was coming here tonight I thought I would deliver your letters in person. I look forward to seeing the four of you at the start of term."

A torrent of pumpkin juice came shooting out of Ron's nose as his ears rapidly reddened. "_He hadn't told his mother yet."_ Hermione became intensely interested in the tablecloth as Harry snapped his head in Ron's direction. Ginny looked confused, and the twins looked at each other sideways and grinned.

"Oh Ronald! Do be careful! That's wonderful news Minerva. We'll have to plan a trip to Diagon Alley next week." Molly said brightly.

"Thanks Professor." Ron smiled weakly avoiding Harry's stare. "See you in a few weeks then."

After dessert, everyone retired to the living room with bottles of butterbeer. The mood had considerably lightened, with both Arthur and Harry apologizing to each other for the harsh words that had been uttered in the kitchen. The adults talked amongst themselves, sharing memories of happier times, while Ron was decimating all challengers at wizard's chess until there was no one left to play. Ginny, Harry noticed, had seemed withdrawn all evening. He had wanted to talk to her alone, but hadn't gotten the chance. As he was coming back from the loo, Fred and George locked their arms in his, lifted him up, and began walking him backwards.

"C'mon you two put me down."

"All in good time ickle Harrykins..."

"There's something we'd like to discuss with you first."

"I really need to talk to Ginny."

"She went to bed while you were relieving yourself..."

"And since you have no other pressing engagements..."

"You should be able to give us your undivided attention."

When they were out of earshot, the twins set Harry down.

"Okay, what?"

"George, have my powers of deduction have decreased with age or is ickle Harry on the patented Weasley six year schooling plan?"

"I think you might be right brother of mine, and dragging Ron and Hermione down with him..."

"Such a bad influence... I couldn't be prouder."

"All right guys look" he whispered, "We're not going back, but that's all I can tell you. Just let Ron tell your parents when he's ready okay."

"We'd love to help you Harry..."

"But despite our seemingly carefree exterior..."

"We are businessmen at heart..."

"The point my dear brother is trying to make Harry..."

"Is that it's going to cost you."

Harry scowled at the twins and then groaned.

"Fine – what's your price?"

"We want to know why you're not going back." They said in unison.

"I can't tell you that."

"Don't say we didn't give you a chance. Mum?"

"Shut up! Okay fine – I'll tell you, but not now. Later, in Ron's room, once everyone is asleep."

"We're going to hold you to that young master Potter."

Harry scowled at the twins as they strode off. He wasn't sure what he was going to tell them. Hopefully he would have enough time to invent a decent lie. He returned to the living room to find everyone (except Fred and George of course) in varying states of sleepiness. "_Definitely not enough time to make up a decent lie"_ Professor McGonagall bid the Weasleys a good evening before turning to Harry.

"Would you be so kind as to see me to the door Mr. Potter?"

"Of course Professor."

When they were out of the living room, McGonagall leaned toward him.

"I believe you will find two birthday presents on your bed Mr. Potter. One from myself, and one from the headmaster."

"Dumbledore's alive?" Harry gasped, his heart leaping.

McGonagall blanched and closed her eyes as if chastising herself for her incredibly bad choice of words.

"I'm sorry Mr. Potter, no. Forgive me for my insensitivity. What I meant to say was that he left a letter for me in his office stating that there were certain belongings of his that he wanted me to pass on to you. I'm sure you will find them quite helpful. I would also like it if you, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger paid me a visit at Hogwarts sometime this week. I believe you at least owe me the chance to try to talk the three of you out of this ridiculous notion of dropping out."

Harry was nonplussed. "How did you – "

"Fred and George Weasley were not the only people paying attention at dinner. Good night Mr. Potter. I'm sure I'll see you later this week."

Harry shut the door behind her and headed back to the living room. After thanking Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for dinner, he Ron and Hermione headed up the staircase, Harry telling them about the things that McGonagall had left for him. Sure enough, when they opened the door to Ron's room, two wrapped parcels were laying on Harry's bed.

Harry was dying to find out what Dumbledore had left for him, but there was something he needed to discuss with his friends first. He opened the door to Ron's room and peeked out to make sure no one was listening. Then, gently closing it again, he turned to his friends. "We need to talk about Tonks. What she did was completely irrational unless..."

Hermione finished his sentence. "Unless she knew. Unless Dumbledore told her. But why would he? Why her?"

"I don't know Hermione. All I know is that she somehow managed to find me on the Hogwarts Express while I was under my cloak. I asked her how she found me and her explanation seemed reasonable at the time. Now I'm not so sure. Later on last term, I bumped into her on the seventh floor. She claimed she was looking for Dumbledore, but she didn't really seem all that interested in actually finding him. I'm starting to wonder if she had been tailing me."

"She was supposed to be guarding Hogwarts," Ron added, "but what if she was there specifically to guard you? Dumbledore was gone a lot. Maybe he wanted someone keeping an eye on you at all times."

"Even if that's true Ron," Hermione countered, "it still doesn't explain her actions. She as good as committed suicide for Merlin's sake, and she put Harry into a coma. She had to have a reason, and I don't for a second believe that she did it to protect you, or Ginny, or me, nor do I believe she did it so that Voldemort might get careless. It doesn't make sense."

"Unless she knew what I was up against." Harry said darkly, "Unless Dumbledore confided in her and set her the task of being my guardian. If Voldemort thinks I'm out of the way, I can track down and destroy the pieces of his soul with him being none the wiser. I can't come up with any other reason"

"Neither can I," Hermione agreed, "and I think it's our job to make sure that she didn't die for nothing."

The three of them sat quietly for a moment digesting their thoughts. There seemed to be nothing else left to say. It was the only thing that made any sort of sense, and even if they were wrong about Tonks' reasons, they would not let her die in vain. Eventually, Harry looked down at the presents on his bed and opened the first, smaller package from McGonagall, which was quite obviously a book. The note attached to it said "_Happy Birthday Harry. I believe you will find this quite useful._ Harry tore the paper away and read the title to his friends.

"A Practical Guide to the Ancient Arte of Occlumency." Harry's disposition soured. He had had enough of Occlumency to last him a lifetime. He tossed it towards Hermione who was sitting on the other bed with Ron.

"I hear the ending is terrible. Apparently the butler did it."

Hermione looked at him admonishingly. "This could come in very handy you know. Just because you had a bad time of it with Sn-" Harry bristled and Hermione quickly recovered. "- before, doesn't mean you'll have a bad time of it now." She began flipping through the pages, scanning it's contents. "Actually Harry, from what I can tell, this is a very simple no nonsense approach."

Harry was barely listening to her as he ripped the wrapping off of the second parcel, which was much larger than the book and quite heavy. He sucked in a breath as the last of the paper fell away to reveal Dumbledore's pensieve, complete with vials of memories that were marked and inventoried. With trembling hands, Harry retrieved the note from the bottom of the pensieve and read:

_Dear Harry,_

_If you are reading this missive, that can only mean that I have moved on to the next great adventure. There were many things I wanted to tell you that time simply did not permit me to, and for that I am truly sorry. I hope you can forgive me. _

_It is my wish that you take possession of my valued pensieve as well as the memories that you and I have explored within it. I have left other memories for you to peruse at your leisure in the hopes that they will answer at least some of the questions you most assuredly have and explain some of the things I did not have time to explain myself._

_Finally Harry, no matter what may have occurred or what you have seen, I implore you again to reevaluate someone whom we have disagreed about many times in the past._

_I remain always your friend,_

_Albus Dumbledore._

At first, Harry didn't notice the tears that were running down his face in hot streams. He was cut to the very core by the trust his former headmaster had shown that bastard right to the bitter end. And Snape had repaid that trust by murdering him in cold blood. Even if he didn't have the power to finish Voldemort, he promised himself that Snape would die...slowly...

OOOOOOOOOOO

**Author's Note: **Thanks to my beta, Laurabeth, who has been incredibly insightful and helpful – oh, and who is also a pleasure to work with.


	6. Secrets

Severus Snape lay helplessly on the threadbare runner as Draco Malfoy relieved him of his wand. The full body bind he had been placed in had made attempting conversation impossible. He reached out with his mind, attempting to connect with the boy, but Draco's Occlumency shields were up, denying him contact. "_He's been practicing. His shields are almost flawless._ _There's no way he could have blindsided me otherwise."_

Draco pointed his wand at Snape, a look of deepest loathing etched in his features, his hand trembling with rage. Snape looked his attacker in the eyes, keeping his face unreadable. The boy muttered "Mobilicorpus" and levitated Snape into a chair in the living room. A set of conjured ropes snaked around Snape's body, binding him tightly to his seat.

"I'm going to release you from the full body bind. If you try to cry out or use any type of wandless magic, I will kill you. Have I made myself clear?"

"_I'm in a full body bind you simpleton. Why ask me questions I am physically unable to answer."_ Snape could only look at his attacker and hope the boy could read his eyes. When he was released from the spell, he shifted in his seat in a futile attempt at comfort, his body still aching from the Cruciatus curse. The shot in the ribs he had just received wasn't helping either.

"I'm not used to receiving visitors at this late hour. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Bad idea. The back of Draco's hand connected with his face and his tongue was met with the salty tang of blood. He had to choose his words carefully. Draco, at least for the time being, held the Quaffle. With a wave of the boy's wand, the blood had vanished. Finally, Malfoy spoke; "I want to know what you're playing at."

"I'm not sure I'm following you Draco."

"I want to know whose side you're on. I've seen you. You're keeping things from the Dark Lord. I've watched you lie to his face with him being none the wiser. Whose side are you on?"

Snape studied the boy for a moment. The excruciating ordeal that Voldemort had put him through had changed him. A couple of weeks previously the boy could not muster the courage to kill Albus Dumbledore, despite the punishment he knew he would receive as a result. The look on Draco's face now told Snape that the boy could kill him as easily as swatting a fly. Furthermore, he deduced, there was no way the boy was here questioning his loyalties on the Dark Lord's orders. Voldemort had just forced the boy to kill his own mother. He was in the middle of a full-blown identity crisis and wanted answers for his own edification. Snape decided that the truth, or at least some of it, was the best road to take for the moment.

"I am on my side Draco. Would you expect anything less of a Slytherin? Do you know why all Slytherins have the potential to accomplish great things? Because we are the perfect balance between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Ravenclaws live a Hamlet like existence of inaction while they analyze every last piece of minutia to death. Gryffindors, conversely, jump into the fray like Muggle swashbucklers, riding in on a silver steed to save the day, not bothering to think things through, arrogantly assuming that they could not possibly fail. You can see how well that worked out for people like Sirius Black and Potter's father. We are Ravenclaws that take action, we are Gryffindors that think and plot. To achieve great things Draco, you need to live up to your Slytherin heritage. You can start by acting like one."

Draco ignored the slight jab. "So your support of the Dark Lord is only for your own advantage, while my father, whose loyalty has never wavered, is rotting away in Azkaban?"

Snape laughed out loud at this question, causing his sides to stitch up. "_Goddamn Cruciatus!"_ He winced with discomfort as the boy looked at him in puzzlement. Whatever Draco had expected, it wasn't laughter.

"Do you think your father is any different than me Draco?"

"My father cares only for blood purity! He is fully committed to the Dark Lord's cause! That's why he – "

"Why he what Draco? Why he slipped poor little Ginny Weasley Voldemort's diary all those years ago? So that she would open the Chamber of Secrets and begin the great Mudblood purge of Hogwarts?"

Draco stared at Snape, stunned. "So you know."

"Yes Draco, I know. It is you who does not know. You have no idea how much you don't know, which is unfortunate, seeing how your father's actions may well end up killing you."

"What are you talking about?" Draco spat, "My father – "

"Your father deployed a weapon that Voldemort had entrusted to him for his own gain! Your father –! " Snape took a calming breath before he continued. "There is much that needs to be explained to you Draco, but to do that I must start at the beginning." Draco did not lower his wand, but made no attempt to interrupt. Snape forged on.

"During the Dark Lord's first reign, your father was initiated into the Death Eaters while he was still a student at Hogwarts. He was taken in by the Dark Lord's views on wizarding purity. It was only later in life that he realized how much he had risked by openly supporting him: his wealth, his political connections, his family heirlooms, and the mansion in which you have grown up. In short, he realized that he had risked everything, and it was too late to back out. When the Dark Lord fell, none of us knew why, or how. None of us was sure that he was even dead, and in fact, most of us thought him to be alive, but weakened to the point of meaninglessness."

"Bartemius Crouch, Minister of Magic at the time, was rounding up the remaining Death Eaters. He was not, however, the cold, heartless beast many believed him to be. Yes, he sanctioned the use of unforgivables by Aurors, and yes, he threw many Death Eaters to the Dementors of Azkaban, but only the ones who refused to admit defeat. Crouch's goal was never to try and put every Death Eater in Azkaban: it was to make completely sure that the Dark Lord never came back, for even Crouch wasn't sure what had become of him. There was, after all, no body at the scene of the Potter's deaths."

"Some Death Eaters refused to repudiate the Dark Lord and were sent to Azkaban, others were killed by Aurors attempting to capture them. Others, like Karkaroff, cut a deal and named names. Unlike them, your father turned himself in and admitted to his crimes, claiming that he had been under the Imperius curse. Crouch knew he was lying of course, so did the Department of Magical Law Enforcement – "

"But they couldn't prove it," Draco interrupted, "and Veritaserum is inadmissible, so they had to let him go."

"That is where you are wrong Draco. They didn't have to do anything they didn't want to do. Do you know how many people have been sent to Azkaban without even a trial? When the Chamber of Secrets was reopened, they sent that ridiculous half-wit Hagrid to Azkaban just so it looked like they were doing something, as if he could possibly be Slytherin's heir. Much to my amusement, that arrogant idiot, Black, spent twelve years in Azkaban for a crime he didn't even commit. Do you think he was given a trial? Do you honestly believe the Ministry of Magic cares about due process?"

"Then why was my father never imprisoned?"

"Because he cut a deal Draco. He cut a deal with Crouch personally. Crouch was aware of how much your father had to lose, but he was also aware that there was a very good chance that the Aurors would not be able to capture every single Death Eater that had been in the Dark Lord's service. If even one of them evaded capture, and sought the Dark Lord out of panic, or because they had nowhere else to turn... Crouch simply wasn't willing to take that risk."

"Your father held a tremendous amount of sway over many of the Dark Lord's followers. Crouch used that, and your father's precarious position to his advantage. Lucius was to keep the Death Eaters under his control on a short leash, in exchange for him protecting them from the Ministry, ensuring that none of them ever went to look for Voldemort. If any of them did, he was to report it to Crouch immediately. The Ministry in turn, kept him out of Azkaban and released his in-laws, the Lestranges. Your father kept his word. When Lucius got wind that your aunt and uncle were looking for the Longbottoms, trying to gain information on the Dark Lord's whereabouts, he sold them out to Crouch. The Aurors captured them, but not before they had tortured Neville's parents to the point of insanity. The official story sent out to the press was that your father and the Death Eaters under his control (like Crabbe and Goyle) had been under the Imperius Curse."

"But how did Crouch get away with that? Surely people within the Ministry must have suspected something."

"Of course they did Draco. Let's just say that your father's vault at Gringott's is considerably emptier than it was before the Dark Lord's defeat. If I may continue, everything worked out well for both sides until people started calling for Crouch's dismissal as Minister of Magic. He was replaced by Cornelius Fudge. A man who by all accounts is of average intelligence, and has no decision making ability to speak of."

"Why was he appointed then?"

"Because Albus Dumbledore was still Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. He didn't want the job himself, but he needed to make sure he had someone who was indebted to him in the Minister's office, someone who couldn't make decisions on his own, someone who wouldn't go to the toilet without consulting him first. Fudge would have never made it past giving out Apparition licenses if it weren't for Dumbledore – Fudge owed Dumbledore, and Dumbledore owned Fudge."

Draco's head was spinning. He hadn't the faintest clue of the layers of corruption within the Ministry, and was even more shocked to find out that Dumbledore played political games as much as the rest.

"Fudge of course, knew nothing of the deal your father had made with Crouch, although I'm sure Dumbledore may have suspected. The long and short of it, Draco, is that your father was no longer protected. Once Dumbledore's puppet was in office, it was very easy to get Amelia Bones to agree to let Arthur Weasley draft a Muggle Protection act, and more importantly, to begin raiding wizard homes that were suspected to contain dark artifacts. They didn't raid your father's mansion immediately, as he had too much political clout, but they did start raiding the homes of the former Death Eaters that your father had sworn to protect. Except without Crouch, he couldn't protect them any more, and if he lost their support, his political and social advantages within wizarding society would have been utterly destroyed. He chose to strike back."

"I still don't see what this has to do with the Chamber of Secrets."

"Consider for a moment what would have happened if Harry Potter had not interfered. Dumbledore would have been completely discredited and removed from Hogwarts. Fudge would have lost his patron and would have had nowhere to turn. Your father at this point would have assured Fudge that the right political wheels would be greased as long as he followed Lucius' agenda. More importantly, the man who was truly a thorn in your father's side, Arthur Weasley, would have been ruined once it became public knowledge that his daughter was the heir of Slytherin – the one who reopened the Chamber of Secrets in an attempt to purge Hogwarts of all Muggle borns. So you see Draco, your father certainly has his own agenda as much as I have mine. We are dedicated to the Dark Lord as long as it suits our purposes."

"So if Potter hadn't interfered – "

"It makes no difference whether Potter interfered or not. Even if your father's plan had gone off perfectly, the Dark Lord would still be out for your blood; your father's plan was not his plan. Lucius made a very costly mistake when he decided to deploy that diary for his own ends. The Dark Lord is furious with him Draco, and he plans to take that anger out on you. What he made you do to your mother was only the beginning. You had better realize right now that with your mother gone, and your father in Azkaban, I am the only one looking out for you. I am the only chance you have at living through this. " Snape had taken the Quaffle back.

"You wish to avenge your mother's death, which was your original intention in coming here this evening. You assumed that I had known what the Dark Lord had in store for you, that I had willingly and knowingly led you into that nightmare. You came here to kill me once you had gotten any information from me on how the Dark Lord might be killed."

"Did you know what he had in store?"

"Draco, I meant what I said when we had that conference in that Muggle warehouse. You are the closest thing I have to a nephew. Had I known what he was going to do I would have hidden you away safely. I may yet still do that. You are in very grave danger Draco, we all are."

Draco lowered his wand and was silent for a moment, as he digested everything he had just heard. With a sudden movement, Draco's wand was once again pointed at Snape. The potions master remained impassive preparing himself for what would either be freedom or death, and an instant later, the ropes that were binding him had vanished, and Draco had returned his wand.

"What do I do now?" Draco's voice was barely a whisper.

"Now? Now you study Draco. Now you work. Your Occlumency shields are strong enough to block out most, but not all invaders. The only reason you were able to surprise me this evening is that I am still suffering the after effects of the Cruciatus curse. Once I have given you some extra tutelage however, even the Dark Lord will not be able to see within you."

"What if I refuse to join you? What if I return to the Dark Lord's side?"

"Only someone who is severely mentally imbalanced would return to the Dark Lord after what he forced you to do. I do not believe you have inherited that trait from your aunt. However, just to be sure, you will allow me into your mind before I leave you here. If you refuse, you will remember nothing we have spoken about tonight."

"Leave me here?"

"Yes Draco, you will be staying here for the time being. Your Occlumency shields must be flawless before the Dark Lord summons you again. I however, must leave for a short period so that I may tend to your aunt's wounds."

Draco let his Occlumency shields drop. After several minutes of picking through the boy's mind with a fine toothed comb, he removed himself from Draco's consciousness, satisfied with what he had seen.

"You will see in time Draco, that you have made the right choice." Snape went silent and looked into Draco's eyes. The young boy nodded slowly. They raised their wands in concert as they turned to face the bookcase set into the wall. Snape silently flicked his wand, a millisecond later; Draco did the same as he pronounced "Stupefy". The bookcase flew open in just enough time to allow Draco's stunner to hit Wormtail between the eyes. Snape glided over to the watery-eyed man lying on the ground, allowing himself a small grin. "You didn't honestly think I would let you leave here with that information did you Wormtail?" The next word out of Severus Snape's mouth was "Obliviate".

OOOOOOOOOOO

Hermione Granger couldn't believe her eyes as the wrapping paper fell away to reveal Dumbledore's pensieve. The book on Occlumency she had been flipping through now lay by her side on Ron's bed, all but forgotten. She and Ron were silently watching Harry, who was absorbed in a note that had come along with the heavy stone basin. When Harry finished reading it, he began to cry. What could Dumbledore have written that would cause Harry to break down like this?

Hermione and Ron moved from Ron's bed to sit on either side of their best friend. "What is it Harry? What does it say?" Harry didn't answer and merely handed the note to her. Ron shifted so that he could read over her shoulder. As she read the short missive, her heart began to constrict. Professor Dumbledore had died because of his unyielding trust in Severus Snape. She couldn't even begin to imagine how Harry was feeling. She and Ron had loved and admired the headmaster, but Harry was close to Dumbledore in a way that they could never be. Ron's face began to redden as he finished the letter. "Don't worry mate, we'll find that greasy git, and when we do..."

"We'll kill him." Harry finished.

Hermione felt quite differently about the matter than Harry and Ron. Not that she didn't hate Snape for his duplicity, for murdering someone dear to her, but in her mind, anything not concerned with hunting the Horcruxes was a distraction they couldn't afford. If they came upon Snape in their travels, then so be it. Harry and Ron however, wanted to hunt the man down, making it their first priority, and that she felt, was a waste of time. She knew better than to speak her mind at the moment and quickly changed the topic.

"So Harry, what was the letter you sent me all about? It obviously had nothing to do with history of magic."

The look on her friend's face had told her that he had completely forgotten about it. His possessions had been left at Privet drive when he and Tonks had made the switch. Besides, he had been too busy tearing Ron and her new ones for leaving him out of the loop again. Harry had been furious with them, and had said some awful, hateful things in anger. The fact that Ginny had decided to have an extended sleepover at Luna's house the minute she found out that Harry was coming to the Burrow had not helped his mood. He and Ron were very close to coming to blows when Fred and George apparated into the bedroom and restrained them, extendable ears still hanging from their heads. Had the twins not been eavesdropping, she was sure that he and Ron would have gotten into a full-blown fistfight. Even then, it was not until Fred and George had explained that Ron, Hermione and Ginny had been essentially under house arrest, and couldn't have even gotten close to an owl that Harry finally calmed down. She had spent the two remaining days as a buffer between the boys. Ron was not as quick to forgive Harry for his angry words, and it wasn't until Harry had gone into a coma that he had let the incident drop.

Harry rummaged through his trunk for a moment and resurfaced with a shoebox. "There are a few things I want to show you guys. Dumbledore gave these things to my aunt the day that Voldemort murdered my parents." It worried her that he could talk about his parents' murder as if he were discussing the weather. Had he come to terms with it, or had he been put through so much pain in the last three years that he was shutting himself off to his emotions? She made a mental note to keep a close eye on him and to have a chat with Ginny as soon as possible. Ginny had told her what she had done right before Harry came out of the coma. She had let herself be incredibly vulnerable with him and Harry hadn't remembered any of it. He had broken her heart all over again. She understood that Ginny was deeply hurt, but it wasn't Harry's fault. Her avoidance of Harry was only making things worse.

He showed them the diary first. They tried every spell they could think of to open it without causing it damage. The diary however, remained resolutely locked. Harry was convinced (although he couldn't explain to them why) that the key to the diary was at Godric's Hollow. He then told them about McGonagall's last words earlier in the evening, and the three of them decided it would be best to visit Hogwarts and Harry's birthplace in one go. The snag in the plan was that Harry couldn't legally apparate. He was old enough, but he couldn't just waltz into the ministry of magic to take his test when everyone thought he was dead. He would have to side along. It was the best they could do at the moment.

He brought out the letters next. She studied them intently with Ron looking over her shoulder. "Old man..." she said aloud, "Dumbledore?" Harry shrugged his shoulders. "That was my guess, but I'm not sure. What about the rest of it?" Hermione poured over the letters again, but drew a complete blank. "I don't know Harry, the wording is awfully obtuse. I'm going to have to think on this for a while. Do you mind if I keep them in my room for a bit?" Harry agreed as she gently slid the letters back into their respective envelopes. Harry went back to the shoebox now balanced on the rim of the pensieve

"Look at this." He delicately took a photograph out of the shoebox and handed it to Ron. It was a picture of baby Harry and his parents when he was but two weeks old. "It's a picture of you and your parents." Ron stated bluntly. The implied "so what?" did not need to be spoken. She loved him, but Merlin he could be so thick at times. "Ronald! This is the only picture Harry has ever seen of him with his parents! It's beautiful Harry, I'm glad it was saved for you."

Harry went to his trunk again and pulled out the omnioculars he had purchased at the quidditch world cup and thrust them towards Ron. "Look at it through these." Ron put the omnioculars to his eyes as she held the picture steady. "What am I supposed to be seeing Harry? I don't... bloody hell!" Ron looked up at Harry as if to say, "please tell me I didn't see what I just saw." Harry merely nodded grimly. She took the omnioculars from Ron and put them up to her eyes as Ron said; "The book on the coffee table." The boys took it to mean that Snape had been there that night. While Voldemort was murdering James and Lily Potter, Severus Snape was downstairs retrieving his old potions book. Hermione wasn't so sure about that. The boys could be right, but the book could have gotten back to Hogwarts in a number of ways. For the time being however, Hermione knew better than to posit that particular theory.

Harry was watching her intently as she studied the photograph. "Notice anything else?" She scanned the picture inch by inch looking for anything else that might seem telling. A full minute passed before it hit her. "Harry! Your eyes! They're jet black!" She looked up at him completely baffled. How is that possible? "_You look just like James, except for your eyes – you have your mother's eyes. How many times had people said that to him? Yet in this picture he very clearly had his father's eyes. What the hell had happened that night?"_

Ron looked confused. "What are you two on about?" She handed the omnioculars back to him. "Look at it Ronald, in this picture he has James' eyes, they're jet black." Ron spent a few seconds alternating between looking at the picture, then back up at Harry. "Well that can't be."

"It can't be, but it is." Harry replied.

"Something very bizarre happened the night Voldemort tried to kill you Harry. The scar, the Parseltongue, your connection with Voldemort, your eyes, we have to find out what happened."

Ron looked dejected. "How do we even start to do that? Dumbledore and Sirius are gone. Who do we even ask?"

Harry and Hermione spoke almost simultaneously. "The owner of that potions book."

At that moment, two tiny pops augured the sudden appearance of Fred and George.

"And what potions book would that be?" the two asked in unison.

Ron put the omnioculars down as he gave the photo back to Harry. "You two, out of my room. Now."

"Not so fast little bro..."

"Unless of course you'd like us to inform mum of your decision..."

"involving your education..."

"or lack thereof..."

"We might also be inclined to tell her about potions books..."

"and Harry's eyes..."

"and cryptic letters..."

"and diaries that won't open."

"You... you've been eavesdropping! Ron blustered.

Fred let a wide grin spread across his face as he looked sideways at his twin. "Our little brother has quite a command of the obvious."

Ron gave his brothers a look that even Kreachur would have been envious of. "What do you want from us?"

"I'm glad you asked little bro..."

"in exchange for our silence..."

"we want in..."

Ron tried to bluff them, but his red ears gave him away. He was truly the worst liar Hermione had ever seen. At least she would know immediately if he ever cheated on her. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Ah! But methinks you do little bro..."

"So apparently do your ears."

"So, you three can either let us in on the action..."

"or all of your secret little shenanigans..."

"may just slip out one evening at the dinner table."

Ron looked like he wanted to murder his brothers right there on the spot. She could tell that Harry's mind was racing as he tried to come up with a believable lie. She looked between her friends and the twins, and then her eyes fell on Ron's bed. "Okay, we'll let you in on the action." Harry and Ron looked at her as if she were insane. She picked up Harry's copy of '_A Practical Guide to the Ancient Arte of Occlumency_' and handed it to them. "There's a condition though. Before we can make you privy to any sensitive information, you must learn to close your minds completely. If what you know falls into the wrong hands, innocent people will die. Therefore you must make yourself completely invulnerable to the effects of Legilimency. Harry refused to share anything with Ron and me until we had done the same. That's the deal. Take it or leave it."

The twins grinned widely. "You drive a hard bargain Ms. Granger..."

"I think I speak for both my brother and I when I say that we have no choice..."

"but to accept. You've got yourself a deal." Fred and George both shook Hermione's hand making the pact official, and then vanished, eager to be alone with the book.

"Well, that should keep them busy for a while. I told you that book would come in handy Harry."

Harry and Ron stared at her for a second and then broke into peals of laughter.


	7. Seeing Things

After the laughter died down, Harry put the photograph and the diary back in the shoebox, which he then carefully placed in his trunk. He turned to see Ron and Hermione staring expectantly at the pensieve. He wanted them to see exactly what he had seen with Dumbledore, but he himself was keener to view the memories he hadn't seen yet. Hermione pointed out that maybe Dumbledore had categorized them for a reason and that they should be viewed chronologically. After a short discussion, they decided that Hermione's idea was the best route to follow.

After giving them a quick tutorial on how to enter the pensieve, Harry dug out the vial with the earliest date on it. It read "_Ogden, B. 1926._" Using his wand, Harry emptied the wispy contents of the vial into the pensieve. The trio grabbed each other's hands, and on the count of three dunked their heads into the basin. Harry felt the familiar falling sensation and tightened his grip on his friend's hands as he heard anxious moans escape their lips. Finally, they landed. "Sorry guys. I should have warned you about the falling part. You can't get hurt, but it still takes some getting used to."

Harry was once again at the crossroads between Great and Little Hangleton. Since he had already seen this memory, he spent most of his time watching his friend's reactions to the scene. Hermione was disgusted at the way Merope was treated by her brother and uncle. Ron was finding it very hard to believe that these filthy, inbred people were Voldemort's family, wondering aloud; "That's what people like the Malfoy's are so proud of? Of being purebloods like them? His muggle dad's no bargain either mind you... sort of a self important prat if you ask me."

Once they were back on the bedroom floor, Harry explained that Dumbledore thought it likely that Merope had used a love potion on Tom Riddle senior in order to gain his affections. "Of course!" Hermione practically shouted, "Slughorn said that in our first class last year when he was talking about Amortentia! He said it was the most dangerous potion in the room and to not underestimate the power of obsessive love! Obsessive love created Voldemort!" Ron stared at her shaking his head. "How do you do that?"

"I pay attention Ronald." Harry was riveted by what she had said. There was at least a fair chance that Slughorn was referring to Voldemort's mother when he made that comment. How much else did he know about Voldemort that he wasn't letting on? He would have to find out when he went to Hogwarts to speak with McGonagall. Hopefully Slughorn was still there. Harry further explained to them that Merope's magical powers had returned once she was out from under the tyrannical yoke of Marvolo and Morfin, and then vanished again after Tom Riddle senior had left her broken hearted. When he had finished, he could tell that Ron and Hermione were thinking of Tonks and the way she seemed to lose some of her powers two years ago when Remus wouldn't return her affections. He felt a sudden stab of guilt, which Hermione instantly picked up on. "Harry don't. Don't do this to yourself. It's not your fault." Harry knew she was right, but the undeniable fact that people he associated with seemed to end up dead didn't do anything to improve his mood.

Eager to put it from his mind for the moment, and to get to a memory he hadn't seen yet, quickly explained the contents of the vial marked "_Burke, C. 1927."_

Hermione was incensed that Caractus Burke had taken advantage of Merope Gaunt. "It's as much Burke's fault that Tom Riddle became Voldemort as anybody's. If Merope had gotten a fair price for that locket, she might never have died. Voldemort might have had a mother. Everything might be different if not for him." When she had finished ranting, he then opened the vial that had been marked '_Cole, A. 1928_.', and emptied it's contents into the pensieve. Was this the same Mrs. Cole he had met in the pensieve on the day that Dumbledore invited Tom Riddle to Hogwarts?

Once again, the three of them dove head first into the basin. Harry looked around and immediately recognized the orphanage where Tom Riddle grew up. Sitting at a desk that contained a formidable amount of paperwork was Mrs. Cole, looking much younger than when Harry had previously seen her, the gin blossoms not yet apparent on her nose and cheeks. "_Did her job drive her to drink like that? Did Riddle_?" She sat, scribbling away, occasionally looking up at how much work she had left to do with a particularly defeated disposition.

Hermione and Ron looked around the drab office not quite sure why they were here. "What is this place?" Ron asked.

"It's a muggle orphanage. It's where Riddle grew up." After a moment, there was a loud knock on the door. Mrs. Cole looked up, slightly irritated at being interrupted and said; "Come". A woman slightly younger than Mrs. Cole entered. She could have been pretty, Harry noted, if she didn't look so completely miserable. Noting the amount of paperwork Mrs. Cole had on her desk, an apologetic look formed on her face.

"Sorry to bother you Annie, but there is something I need to talk to you about and it can't wait."

Mrs. Cole looked as if she knew what the woman was going to say before the words had left her lips. "What is it Martha?"

"I'd... I'd like to be transferred to a different floor."

She let out a heavy sigh and replied; "Martha, he's just a baby, you're being completely irrational."

"Maybe I am, but I'm not going into that room again. Someone else can feed him and change him. Every time I go into that room, I leave feeling like I'll never be happy again. It lasts for hours, sometimes longer. Don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about either Annie. Don't tell me I'm imagining things. You've felt it too, I've heard you talk about it. I've heard the children talk about it in whispers, and no one on staff wants to go near him. You know I'm dedicated. You know I'm a hard worker. You know I love children. That's why I'm here; same as you, but there is something unnatural about that child... something evil..." Harry noticed that Martha was absent mindedly fiddling with a crucifix that hung from a chain around her neck.

Harry felt himself flying upwards as the three of them left the pensieve and landed on Ron's bedroom floor. He looked at Hermione, who seemed to be sharing his exact thought; "_That's it?"_ He couldn't understand why Dumbledore would bother leaving him a memory depicting a woman getting creeped out by Voldemort. Yes, he was an infant at the time, but he was still Voldemort! Ron on the other hand looked pensive, which was not a look he wore often. "What is it Ron?"

"Well, it's just... I don't know if it means anything mate, but that lady's words, Martha, 'I leave feeling like I'll never be happy again', that was almost exactly what I said the day the Dementor came into our train car."

"I think she was just reacting to Voldemort Ron, what would a Dementor be doing at a muggle orphanage?"

"Dunno. It just struck me as odd though, the look on her face, what she said, it was like déjà vu or something. It was almost like being back in that train car during third year."

Harry could see Hermione's gears start to turn, but for the time being, she remained silent. "There's smoke coming out of your ears Hermione, should we press on or do you need some time?" For a moment it was as if she didn't hear him as the wheels inside her head spun furiously. Finally, she answered; "one or two more I think, then we should stop. It's getting late and this is a lot to take in."

Harry immediately recognized the next vial as a memory he had seen before. He wondered how Hermione and Ron would react to seeing Tom Riddle for the first time. He emptied the contents of the vial marked _"Dumbledore, A. 1938."_ And couldn't help but notice how the silvery wisp seemed to sparkle as if a bit of the headmaster's personality was intermingled with the memory.

When they landed, they were outside the orphanage they had visited moments ago. Ron laughed out loud at Dumbledore's ostentatious plum colored velvet suit, until Hermione reminded him of his first set of dress robes and began to giggle. Ron scowled at her; "Did you have to bring that up Hermione?" She flashed a coy smile and gave him a peck on the cheek. "You looked adorable in those robes." Ron, placated, turned a light shade of pink. Harry merely rolled his eyes.

They followed Dumbledore across the road and into the orphanage. Once again, Harry was paying more attention to his friend's reactions than to the memory itself. Hermione was shocked at how much Annie Cole had aged in ten years time; "Only presidents and prime ministers age that quickly." she said to no one in particular. She began muttering to herself, seemingly making mental notes as Mrs. Cole described what Tom was like as a baby. When Mrs. Cole related the story of Billy Stubbs' rabbit, she added; "He was already consciously doing magic, fascinating. Levitation? Or something else?" which earned her sideways looks from the boys. Ron shuddered as his imagination grappled with what Riddle must have done to those poor children in the seaside cave. He shook himself out of it as Dumbledore and Mrs. Cole got up from their seats and made their way to Tom Riddle's room.

As they piled into the room with Albus Dumbledore, Hermione let out a gasp; "He looks exactly like his father!" she cried, looking straight at Harry. When she saw that Harry was not getting where she was heading, she continued; "That may be why he chose you and not Neville, Neville looks like his mother. You're a half blood and so is he. Neville is a pureblood. He assumed that the prophecy referred to you because you were more like him than Neville." Harry wasn't sure if Hermione was right. How could Voldemort have known what he or Neville looked like? The answer came immediately; Snape. Harry couldn't believe he could ever hate someone as much as he hated Snape, and yet it seemed that every day he found new and improved reasons to hate him even more.

Ron was slightly appalled at the amount of leeway Dumbledore gave Tom Riddle during their encounter. "How could Dumbledore not see that this kid was bad news?" he wondered aloud.

"He knew Ron; he just thought he could save him. He allowed himself to hope for the best. He didn't know how much of a maniac Riddle would turn out to be." There it was again; Albus Dumbledore's fatal flaw. He always had to believe the best of people. That character trait was at least partially responsible for Tom Riddle turning into Lord Voldemort and was almost completely responsible for his own death. How could someone so intelligent and powerful be so blind to the obvious? Harry would learn from Dumbledore's greatest mistake, he would not be so trusting.

Hermione's voice brought him back to the present. She was thinking out loud, categorizing things in her brain as she spoke. "_'Tell the truth.'_ He feels that he's been lied to. He sees people as fundamentally dishonest. Who betrayed his trust? Paranoia... delusions of grandeur... secretive, a loner... doesn't have friends, doesn't want them... pathologically afraid of death... wants to be separate from humanity... how did he get like this? Who did this to him?" Harry couldn't believe that Hermione was speaking about Lord Voldemort as if he were a victim and as they returned to Ron's bedroom, he told her so in no uncertain terms.

Hermione had expected this. She knew that Harry would have a hard time accepting Lord Voldemort as anything but pure evil. The idea that someone or something else may have had a hand in creating Lord Voldemort out of Tom Riddle was not going to go over well, but it was something she firmly believed in. People, in her experience, were not inherently good or evil. They were at least in some part molded by the circumstances of their lives, especially their formative years.

"Harry, while it may be true that certain people are genetically predisposed to committing evil acts, it's still all about percentages. Just because Tom Riddle is arguably genetically more likely to commit an evil act, it still doesn't mean he was 'born evil'. Someone or something made him this way and it happened long before he got to Hogwarts. It may have even happened before he could walk and talk. You saw how that woman Martha spoke about him. He couldn't have been more than a year old at the time. Voldemorts and Hitlers and Stalins are made Harry, they're not born. Something happened to him in that orphanage – I'm sure of it."

"Even if you're right Hermione, what difference does it make? I've still got to kill him, how does that help me?"

"If we know why Tom Riddle became Lord Voldemort, it could make all the difference in the world Harry. I'm sure that orphanage wasn't the greatest place to grow up in, but it was a damn sight better than being raised by your aunt and uncle as far as I can tell. At least the staff seemed to genuinely care about the children they were charged with. I refuse to believe that you turned out okay and he didn't because you were 'born good' and he was 'born evil'. I'm telling you Harry, something very dark happened to him at an early age, and I don't think it was maltreatment at the hands of the staff."

Harry wasn't going to win this argument right now, and he wasn't even sure it was worth arguing about. If Hermione wanted to investigate Tom Riddle's past, it couldn't hurt even if he believed it really couldn't help either. "All right Hermione, you may have a point. If you want to go down that road and see if you can dig anything up, it's okay with me. Are we up for one more, or should we call it a night?"

Ron was already reading the next vial; "'_Gaunt, M. 1943.'_ Is that the grandfather or the uncle?" Harry didn't see the point of delving back into this memory. "It's the uncle; the grandfather was dead by then. Voldemort murdered his father and paternal grandparents with his uncle's wand, and then planted a fake memory in Morfin's mind. His uncle confessed to the murders and rotted away in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit, his only regret being that he had lost a ring that was a Slytherin family heirloom. Tom had stolen it from him of course, that was the Horcrux that Dumbledore destroyed.

The next vial was Slughorn's memory of the night that Tom Riddle came to him with questions about Horcruxes. They decided to skip this one as well since they all knew the gist of it already.

Ron put the vial back and read the next label. "'_Dumbledore, A. 1945.'_ What's this one about Harry?"

"Dunno, I haven't seen this one yet. Let's make it the last one, it's getting late." Harry uncorked the vial and unloaded the sparkly contents of his former headmaster's memory into the basin and the three of them took their last plunge of the evening.

When they landed, they found themselves in what could only be described as a massive stone fortress. Albus Dumbledore was about twenty yards ahead of them and he seemed to be bent over something. As they approached, they could see the headmaster's robes were covered in blood. He had deep slashes on his face and his nose had quite obviously been shattered. He was attempting a very complex healing spell on someone who must have been an auror. The wizard was choking on his own blood as his entrails spilled out onto the cold stone floor. Hermione quivered as a chill ran up her spine. Ron instinctively took her in his arms as they watched the bloody scene of death unfold in front of them. The auror took his last breath and Dumbledore did something they had never seen him do before; he swore. The three of them exchanged shocked looks as Dumbledore left the corpse where it was and kept slowly and carefully moving forward.

Harry couldn't help but notice the fierce, hardened look on the headmaster's face as they followed him, discovering more and more dead bodies the further along they went. The sparkle in his blue eyes had been replaced by a raging fire. The smile on his normally kind face replaced by a grimace of rage. There was no other word for it, Albus Dumbledore looked positively terrifying, and became even more so as the body count grew. As they turned a corner, they saw what must have been a dozen Dementors hovering over the body of a fallen wizard. "Expecto Patronum!" A dazzling white phoenix emerged from Dumbledore's wand, plunging headlong into the group of soul eaters, driving them away. Dumbledore ran to the fallen auror but it was too late. They had already performed the kiss.

Roughly fifteen feet ahead of the catatonic auror, the passageway came to a dead end. It was a sheer stone wall with an indentation in the middle roughly the size of a fist. He paused, running his fingers along the wall, eyes closed, until he found whatever it was he had been looking for. A look of disgust crossed his face as he turned back to the alive but soulless auror on the ground. He seemed to be gathering his nerve, but none of them could figure out why. After a few moments, he looked down at the auror with tears in his eyes. "I'm truly sorry Colin" he said to the man, "I wish there were another way. If you can hear me, know that it is with your death that the entire world will be saved." With a wave of his wand, Colin's chest cavity was hewn open, spraying blood onto the headmaster's face. Another flick of his wand ripped the man's still beating heart out of his chest. He guided the heart to the wall with his wand, fitting it neatly into the indentation which caused the wall to vanish.

"Avada Kedavra!" A jet of green light was headed directly for Dumbledore, but before any of them had time to react, the headmaster had disapparated as the spell took chunks of stone out of the wall next to them. They ran into the chamber where the spell had come from. There stood Dumbledore, squaring off against another wizard. Dumbledore's adversary was old and grizzled, his white hair matted with grease and dirt. His brown rotten teeth showing through what could only be described as a sick, perverted leer. His voice was low and gravelly. "Found me at last Dumbledore? Are you so keen to die like the rest of your friends?" he growled. Dumbledore fixed him with a steely gaze. "You cannot win Grindelwald. Your muggle ally shot himself in the head last night in his bunker. Perhaps you would do well to follow in his footsteps. All of those innocent people dead Grindelwald. Millions of them...women... children... why?" Dumbledore fixed the dark wizard with a look of pure loathing.

Grindelwald laughed at this, an unearthly howl emanating from his throat. "Because it was so easy. Mudbloods are animals, I have proven it. Look at how easily they are manipulated into killing each other. Plant a few suggestions that Jewish muggles are a plague upon society, then sit back and watch the show. How many millions of them did I kill without so much as raising my wand? It is you who cannot win Dumbledore. You who are too blind to see mudbloods for the reptiles they really are, you who are afraid to use an unforgivable curse and it is you who will beg for my mercy before I am through with you. Crucio!" Dumbledore flicked his wand and a brilliant white phoenix shot out of it. As the jet of light hit it, it burst into thousands of brilliant stars, blinding the dark wizard. "Expelliarmus!" Dumbledore bellowed. The spell from his wand hit Grindelwald in the chest and sent him flying into the stone wall behind him.

The wizard got to his feet enraged, blood trickling from the side of his mouth. The disarming spell had not relieved him of his wand however. "Avada Kedavra!" Once again, Dumbledore disapparated before the killing curse could hit its mark. He reappeared behind Grindelwald, with a look of cold rage on his face; "Reducto!" The spell hit Grindelwald in the upper back. Harry could hear the man's shoulder blades reduced to powder by the force of the spell. Grindelwald screamed in pain and fury. "Reducto!" The next one hit him in the leg, pulverizing his femur and dropping him to his knees. Albus Dumbledore looked like a wild animal closing in for the kill. "Reducto!" Grindelwald's pelvis shattered as he fell on his back. "Reducto!" His wand arm snapped backwards, a sliver of bone protruding from his forearm.

Dumbledore stood over his fallen adversary, his entire body shaking with rage. "It is over Grindelwald. Do not force me to kill you." The dark wizard let out a raspy laugh as he looked up in hatred. "Over? Nothing is over Dumbledore, not even if you kill me is it over. I ensured my victory seventeen years ago. You will feel my wrath for the rest of your pathetic life!" Harry tried in vain to call out to the headmaster. Grindelwald had used the time Dumbledore had given him to switch his wand into his still functioning right hand. "Avada-"

"Reducto!" The jet of light from Dumbledore's wand caught Grindelwald squarely in the head. Harry heard the sickening sound of the man's skull being squashed like a melon. Blood shot from his mouth, nostrils and ears in huge spurts, and Grindelwald fell over dead. Dumbledore poked at the body with his wand as his eyes became moist. Silent tears began to fall until the sorrow possessed him entirely. Albus Dumbledore, his body trembling with grief and rage at the countless millions of innocents who had died, fell to his knees, weeping violently.

No one spoke when they returned to the reality of the Burrow, all of them lost in their own thoughts. None of them had ever seen this side of Dumbledore before and it was both awesome and terrifying to behold at the same time. Ron, who looked as if he were on the verge of tears himself, broke the silence. "He didn't just kill him, he bloody crucified him. Why did he want us to see that? I don't want to remember him like that. I don't..."

Hermione, silent tears running down her cheeks, answered. "The man didn't leave him much choice. It was as if he wanted Dumbledore to kill him. As if Dumbledore would be tainted by it somehow. Dumbledore is not a killer Ron. That evil bastard knew what it would do to him."

"But why did we have to see it? What good does it do any of us?"

"Maybe we need to see how far we might have to go" Harry said, as if in a dream, "Maybe he wants us to be prepared for the worst."

"And maybe" Hermione offered, "he wants us to take Grindelwald's threat seriously. He said he ensured his victory seventeen years previously. That would be 1928. Tom Riddle was born on the last day of 1927. It's connected somehow. It has to be, and I'm willing to bet that if I'm right, and something happened to Riddle when he was a baby in that orphanage, it's linked back to Grindelwald."

Harry had to admit that there could be something there, however at the present moment, he was physically and emotionally exhausted, and could tell that his friends were as well. "I think that's enough for tonight." he said quietly, "I'm absolutely knackered and I don't think I'm thinking too straight right now." Hermione nodded in agreement; "I think we could all do with some sleep. We'll talk about this more in the morning." She gave Harry and Ron each a peck on the cheek, said goodnight, and exited the room.

Harry carefully put the pensieve away in his trunk along with the vials of memories. He and Ron changed silently, neither one of them wanting to discuss what they had just seen. Harry had known since his first year that Dumbledore had defeated Grindelwald. He had always just assumed that the dark wizard was captured and sent to Azkaban. Before tonight, he had not thought that Dumbledore was capable of killing someone with such viciousness, and seeing the headmaster torn with grief made him suspect that Dumbledore, at least up to that moment, had not thought so either.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Draco sat across from the potions master, and listened intently as the man spoke. "...the difference Draco is that you cannot allow the Dark Lord to know that you are practicing Occlumency in his presence. The wall you have built around your mind is serviceable at keeping out other intruders, but in the case of the Dark Lord, you will need to be more cunning. You must allow him to think that he has full access to your thoughts, while at the same time denying him access to things you do not want him to see."

"How am I supposed to do that?" the boy asked, "How am I supposed to let him in and keep him out at the same time?"

"We will begin with a practical demonstration. Once you have experienced what I am talking about, it will be like flying a broom, once you learn how, you never forget. Now, I am going to enter your mind and place a suggestion in it. The suggestion will be an innocuous word, one that you will not have any emotional attachment to. I need you to start with a clear mind, as if you were practicing the kind of Occlumency you have already all but mastered. Are you ready?"

Draco nodded as he cleared his mind and gazed into Snape's eyes. The potions master counted to three and with a flick of his wand, said "Legilimens". At first Draco only saw darkness, his mind completely empty of thought. Then, quite suddenly, he saw a chair. His thoughts quickly jumped to him sitting in his favorite overstuffed armchair in the Slytherin common room as Pansy did his homework for him. Shifting again, he found that he was now leaning back in the chair, Parkinson straddling him, kissing him passionately, both of them in various states of undress. She began to kiss his way down his body as he moaned softly...

Snape pulled himself out of Draco's mind, seemingly unfazed by the intimate moment he had just witnessed. "Do you see Draco? Do you see how even harmless suggestions such as 'chair' can, by association, lead to thoughts that you do not wish to be compromised?" Draco nodded; hanging on Snape's every word. The potions master continued. "That is because your mind automatically makes certain specific associations with any and all words and concepts. When I suggested 'chair', you immediately thought of your favorite chair. Then, your mind immediately brought up memories of pleasant events that had occurred while you were sitting in that chair. You must learn how to change those associations. Now, I will use the same suggestion – the concept of 'chair'. As soon as the first image of a chair enters your consciousness, I want you to immediately picture the chair you are sitting on. Think of how that chair was made. Was it made by a wizard or a muggle? What kind of wood was used? What did the tree that the wood came from look like? What kind of forest was it in? Do you understand?" Draco nodded again, fascinated by this new information.

Once again, after Draco had cleared his mind, the potions master counted to three and entered Draco's head. As soon as Draco saw the image of a chair, he followed Snape's directions. He envisioned how the chair was made, who made it, what kind of wood it was made of, and followed the tree backwards in time until it was nothing but an acorn. Snape pulled himself from Draco's mind. "Very good Draco; you are picking this up as quickly as I had anticipated."

"But what if the suggestion is something like 'Weasley'? Am I supposed to think about how he was made? Am I supposed to picture his parents shagging?"

"Not unless you want to be put off your supper," came the potion master's reply, "I have found that deliberately making myself nauseous has not helped in learning Occlumency."

Draco laughed at Snape's crack at Ron's expense as his professor continued. "What you have just experienced will only work for suggestions that have no emotional value to you. The value in it is that you can do it on the fly with no preparation, and it will work for any inanimate object or concept that holds no emotional charge for you. The hard part is to shield your mind from emotionally charged suggestions; words like 'Potter', 'mother', 'Voldemort', or 'Snape'. This is most likely the kind of attack you can expect from Voldemort. In these instances, you must actually practice a linear train of thought over and over again until it becomes second nature. You must purposely arrange your thought patterns in such a way that your mind will instinctively follow the pattern of associations you have forced it to, leading the Legilimens down a specifically pre arranged path without him realizing it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, but why wouldn't Voldemort be more subtle about it? Why would he use a highly charged suggestion, if an innocent word like 'chair' would achieve the same results? No one would think to safeguard themselves against a word like that."

"The Dark Lord's greatest weakness is that he is exceedingly arrogant. He is so confident in his power he does not believe that you, or I, or anyone else has the sufficient skills to resist him. We are going to exploit that weakness Draco. Now, as far as suggestions that you have emotional attachment to go, the first step is to picture the person that you are thinking about as if you were reading about them in a history of magic text. The point of this is to take away the personal feelings you may have about this person. To turn them into someone you have never met, just a character in a book."

"You may still have feelings of love or hatred for them, but it will cease being personal. You will still hate Weasley for example, but it will be in the same fashion as your hatred for a villain in a piece of fiction, as opposed to the personal vindictiveness you currently associate with him. Once you have mastered your emotional relation to the person in question, you will select the least incriminating memories you have of them, and arrange them in order as if you were writing a story about them."

Draco and Snape practiced in this fashion for hours. Keeping his mind blank had enabled him to recognize at once when Snape placed a suggestion in it. His ability to separate his own thoughts from the suggestions that Snape was planting was exhilarating. It was a mentally and physically draining process, but as Draco caught on, the excitement of each small success made him forget about his fatigue.

After a couple of hours, they moved from inanimate objects to human beings. They had initially started with Seamus Finnegan. Draco had a vague dislike for the boy as he was a Gryffindor, and even worse, he was Irish, but the negative feelings he had towards him were not nearly as intense as the feelings he had for someone like Potter or Granger. By the time they had taken a break to eat supper, he had successfully redirected his thoughts concerning anyone he had vague feelings of like or dislike about. He knew that the hardest part was yet to come. After supper they would begin to tackle the big guns, starting with Ginny Weasley.

Pettigrew had come downstairs during the end of their session. The hexes he had been hit with the night before ensured that he would sleep away most of the day. He looked moody and sullen, glaring at Snape with resentment through his watery eyes. "I know you two are up to something!" he whined, "You modified my memory last night! I can't remember anything that happened after I came downstairs! I'm going to go to him! I'm going to tell him!"

"Calm down before you soil yourself Wormtail." Snape replied, as calmly as if they were discussing what to make for supper, "You and I both know you will do nothing of the sort."

"How do you know I won't?"

"Unless I'm much mistaken, you have an almost uncanny sense of self preservation. I highly doubt it would allow you to subject yourself to the same experience as poor Bertha Jorkins. What do you think Draco? Do you think that Wormtail here is so dedicated to the cause that he would willingly tell the Dark Lord that I obliviated him? That he would want the Dark Lord to fry his brain like an egg to get at that memory?" Draco merely snorted, glancing at Wormtail with disdain. "Or perhaps I should notify the Dark Lord of your little secret."

"I don't have any secrets!" he shouted, "I keep nothing from the Dark Lord!"

Snape raised his eyebrows as he surveyed the rat like man cowering before him. "Nothing? Really now? Do you mean to tell me that the Dark Lord is aware of the fact that you owe a life debt to Harry Potter?"

Draco's eyes shot towards Wormtail in surprise. Pettigrew's breath caught in his throat as fear crept over his features. He began to perspire as he looked back and forth between Snape and Draco, nervously caressing the fingers on his silver hand. "Harry Potter is dead!" he squeaked.

"That may be Wormtail, but you know as well as I, that debt is still owed to someone and it must be repaid. Whether it is to Granger, or Weasley, or someone else in the Order of the Phoenix makes no difference. You are eventually magically bound to assist his enemies and work against him. I wonder how the Dark Lord would react to that bit of information, that one of his servants has no choice but to eventually betray him... No Wormtail... you will never tell a soul that there is a hidden memory concerning me somewhere in your brain, not if you want to live. Now, if you would please be so kind as to start supper, Draco and I are famished."


	8. Hermoine's Hunch

_The Daily Prophet_

_August 4th, 1997_

_MOM And The Chosen One Join Forces_

_Sources inside the Ministry of magic claim that Harry Potter, known across the wizarding world as 'The Boy Who Lived' and 'The Chosen One', has been secreted away to an undisclosed location for what has been described by minister of magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, as 'advanced auror training' in order to better prepare him for the imminent battle with 'You Know Who'. Scrimgeour further stated that Potter, once properly trained, will have a team of aurors, as well as the mysterious knowledge of certain 'unspeakables' at his disposal. When asked by reporters about the whereabouts of 'The Chosen One' in the two days since the attack on his relative's home in Surrey, and the veracity of the alleged prophecy that was destroyed, __continued, p.7_

Harry Potter tossed the newspaper onto the kitchen table with a snort of disgust and took another sip of tea. It was five in the morning, and the entire Weasley home would be blissfully peaceful for another two hours. After tossing and turning for what seemed like an eternity, he finally got out of bed and came down to the kitchen. The owl that delivered the ministry propaganda rag known as '_The Daily Prophet_' had arrived particularly early. No doubt that Scrimgeour wanted this story to get out as quickly as possible. The reporters that had flooded the ministry were apparently getting tired of "No comment", and rumors were starting to fly. _"You're doing this the hard way Riddle. If domination of the wizarding world is what you're after, you should have just started a newspaper... Merlin knows more people listened to Rita Skeeter than Fudge or Scrimgeour or Dumbledore..."_

His mind shifted to the images that they had seen last evening. Harry had thought he had seen pure evil, that he had looked it in the face the first time he encountered the resurrected Lord Voldemort in that graveyard, but Grindelwald put Riddle to shame. Voldemort was certainly a sociopath, and probably more magically powerful, but Grindelwald oozed depravity and filth out of every pore in his body. Ron was upset at how Dumbledore had killed the bastard, but quite frankly, he thought that Dumbledore had let him off easy. Even Voldemort had never committed murder on that grand a scale. What did all of it mean? Was Hermione right? Was Dumbledore trying to tell them that Voldemort was created by Grindelwald?

"_Nothing is over Dumbledore, not even if you kill me is it over. I ensured my victory seventeen years ago_."

"_He was a funny baby too. Hardly ever cried, you know. And then when he got a little older, he was... odd_."

"_Someone or something made him this way and it happened long before he got to Hogwarts. It may have even happened before he could walk and talk_."

"_that lady's words... 'I'll never be happy again', that was almost exactly what I said the day the Dementor came into our train car_."

"_Someone else can feed him and change him_."

"... _he could not bear to reside in a body so full of the force he detests... It was your heart that saved you_."

"... _he was in such a hurry to mutilate his own soul, he never paused to understand the power of a soul that is untarnished and whole_."

"_Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike._.."

"_I refuse to believe that you turned out okay and he didn't because you were 'born good' and he was 'born evil'_"

"_You are protected, in short, by your ability to love... In spite of all the temptation you have endured, all the suffering, you remain pure of heart_..."

"..._no one on staff wants to go near him_"

"... _but he will have power the dark lord knows not_..."

His thoughts were broken by a light flowery scent, and as he snapped his head around he saw Ginny in the middle of making a u-turn back out of the kitchen. Realizing that she'd been seen, she stopped, like a deer caught in a pair of headlights.

"Uhhh... sorry Harry... I didn't know anyone was down here. I didn't mean to – "

"No, it's okay, I mean... you're not..." This was not the talk he had hoped for. "Umm... tea?" "_Real smooth Potter_."

"Umm... yeah... sure... thanks." Ginny sat across from him, the sunrise highlighting her thick fiery mane. Harry could not remember a time when he had wanted her so badly, and had they been alone in the house, he might have lost the last remnants of his self control.

"How are you?" Harry started hesitantly, "I mean... I haven't really... seen you... lately... you ok?"

"Yeah... yeah... fine... uh, brilliant... you?" she said, avoiding his gaze.

"All right... couldn't sleep."

"Yeah, me neither... you gave us quite a scare, you know." she replied, finally looking up at him.

"_At least she still cares_." Harry thought to himself. "I seem to do that a lot... sorry."

"No worries... we're... getting used to it."

"Hey, uh... would you... do you fancy a walk?" Ginny opened her mouth, then closed it again before looking away. "I mean if you don't want to..."

"No, I mean... yeah... sure..."

The summer sun was still creeping over the horizon as they stepped outside into the garden, where the gnomes were playing some odd version of tag that involved hitting each other over the head with scallions. Harry and Ginny were silent for awhile as they walked towards the pond near the end of the property.

"Bill and Fleur are going to exchange vows right in front of the pond at sunset. Should be beautiful."

"_You are more beautiful than any sunset could ever hope to be_!" "Yeah... lovely..."

"You won't be there, will you?" It was a statement more than a question.

"Not unless there's a spell that can make me look like a ghost; half of the ministry will be there. I'll probably have to stay in Ron's bedroom under my cloak."

"I heard you getting cross with Ron and Hermione when you first got here, everything all right?"

"Yeah, everything's fine, I just... it gets me so angry when they keep things from me. I know it's not their fault, but they can't possibly understand how completely bloody maddening it is to be left on the outside by the people you care about more than anything. All because they're trying to protect you."

"It hurts doesn't it?"

"Yeah Ginny, it makes me feel... not worthless, I know their intentions are pure, I know they're only doing it because they care, but... it makes me feel... I don't know..."

"Frustrated? Powerless?"

"Yes! Exactly!"

He knew that if anyone could understand him it was Ginny. This talk was getting better already. Just then, she wheeled on him, her eyes flooded with tears.

"Now you know how I feel Harry! Now you know how I feel when you push me away! That is exactly how you make me feel every day, and it's not fair! How could you? After what happened two years ago, how could you? Oh sure, it's the crime of the century when they push you away for your own protection, but when you do it to me it's for my own good, is that it?"

Harry felt like he had just been punched in the face... hard. Ginny was in anguish, and it was because of him. He felt a stab rip into his heart that seemed to ripple throughout his entire being. He had hurt her terribly when all he had ever wanted to do was protect her.

"Ginny I love you! I'm in love with you! I want to have children with you! You are the only reason I can even get out of bed in the morning! You are everything to me! I never meant to hurt you like this! I just wanted you to be safe!"

Ginny Weasley let out a small hiss. "I know you're intentions are pure Harry. I know you're only doing it because you care." She'd thrown his own words right back in his face.

"It's not the same Ginny."

"It's exactly the same! Why is it different for you, because you're the bloody 'boy who lived'? Do you think other people don't hurt like you do? Well, let me tell you something Potter, they do, and I'm tired of you breaking my heart! And if you can't see that then you're a filthy hypocrite!" She turned away from him, hugging her arms to her chest, plump tears running down her face, staining her jumper.

Harry reached out to touch her shoulder. "Ginny, please..."

Ginny turned to face him, her voice cracking with resentment and pain. "Don't. Don't touch me Harry. I will not allow you to hurt me anymore. Until you realize that what you're doing is cruel and hurtful, I want nothing more to do with you. And if you never see it, then maybe you never really loved me."

"Ginny I do love you. I love you with – "

"Then prove it Harry!" she snarled, "I'm tired of words." The youngest Weasley turned from him and began walking back to the house.

"Ginny wait! Ginny!" Harry watched her walk away, without even a pause in her gait as he called out to her. She reached the house, and disappeared through the door, slamming it behind her. "_God damn it_!"

He stormed towards the garden, and grabbing the gnome closest to him, swung it around in circles before launching it over the fence with all his might. "_Why was she being so damn stubborn_? _Why couldn't she understand that if anything happened to her because of me, I could never forgive myself_? _I'm trying to protect her from Voldemort, to make sure that she has a future, that she has a chance at a normal life._ _Why was that so intolerable to her_?"

Harry spent the better part of an hour vindictively de-gnoming the garden with a vitriol he normally reserved for a certain potions master. As he heaved a particularly feisty gnome who had just clobbered him with a scallion over the fence, he saw Hermione walking towards him, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "_Good. Maybe Hermione was able to talk some sense into her_."

"Morning Harry. Fred and George going to jump for joy when they find out you de-gnomed the garden for them."

"Good. Then they owe me one. Maybe they can hex some sense into their sister."

"Maybe they can hex some sense into you Harry."

"Great! You too? You women always side with each other." The words came out of his mouth before he realized what he was saying. He closed his eyes, waiting for his friend to start shouting at him. Much to his amazement, she remained calm as the waters of the Weasley pond.

"I'm siding with her because she's right Harry. You are being a hypocrite. I love you, but you need to realize that what you are doing to her is exactly what was done to you two summers ago. Look, I know you love her, and she loves you. I know you want the best for her, but it's not your decision to make. She's a woman Harry, she's not three years old. She is well aware of the risks that come along with being with you, and if she's willing to take those risks, that's her choice."

Harry continued to fling gnomes over the fence as he spoke. "If anything happened to her because of me, I could never forgive myself Hermione, so as far as I can tell, it is my decision."

Hermione let out an exasperated groan. "You still don't get it do you? Everything that is happening, everything that has happened; your parents, Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, has happened because of Voldemort. Not because of you. What if Voldemort had given Neville that scar instead of you? Do you honestly believe that any of us would be in less danger right now?"

"If that were the case, I would have had parents, Sirius would still be alive."

"Parents that would be at St. Mungo's lying in the beds that belong to Frank and Alice Longbottom. Parents that wouldn't even be able to recognize you. It wouldn't matter. You'd still want to finish Voldemort off. You still would have been at the ministry that day. You would have been there to fight on Neville's behalf, and for what Voldemort had done to your parents, just as Neville and the rest of us were there for you. Sirius would have still gone there to save you. How do you know that things wouldn't have turned out exactly the same? How do you know that Barty Crouch junior wouldn't have put Neville's name in the goblet of fire? How do you know that Cedric wouldn't have still ended up dead in that graveyard, or Fleur, or Viktor?"

"These things are happening because of Voldemort Harry, not because of you. You're mortgaging your future with the woman you love for something that only might happen, and that you have no control over anyway! The fact of the matter Harry, is that in Voldemort's eyes she is a blood traitor. She is already on his hit list. We all are, and there is nothing you can do to shield her from that. The chosen one could be you, or Neville, or me, or Argus bloody Filch, it still comes to the same thing! No matter who Voldemort gave that scar to, all of us, Ginny included, would stay and fight because it's the right thing to do. We would all still be in mortal danger every single day."

"But I'm the one who has to face him Hermione. I'm the one who has to kill him. Not Neville. Me. And she's in less danger if she's not with me."

"And what if you fail Harry? What if Voldemort kills you? Do you want to die regretting that you spent the last year of your life without her? What about her? She doesn't even get to have a say in the matter. What about Ron? Or me? We could all be dead within a year Harry, and I for one, decided that I would not spend what could be the last year of my life waiting for Ron to pluck up the nerve to ask me out."

"So you think I'll fail... in the end..."

Hermione was silent for a moment before she spoke. "I believed Dumbledore when he said that the greatest power you possessed was your capacity to love. And I believe that if you don't start using that power to it's fullest potential... you might..."

"I do love her! I'm trying to protect her!"

The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. "No you're not! You're trying to protect yourself Harry! Stop blaming yourself for your parent's deaths! It wasn't your fault!"

Harry wheeled on her, shrieking in rage. "YES IT WAS! THEY'RE DEAD BECAUSE OF ME! I KILLED THEM!"

The years of guilt and torment that had been bottled up inside him were vomited out in a torrent of tears and howls of agony. As his legs began to give way, Hermione caught him in her arms and held his head to her shoulder, holding him like a mother holding her child; kissing the crown of his head, gently rocking him in her arms, his muffled wails of pain puncturing her heart. She sank to her knees under his weight and held him tightly as he convulsed in her arms.

"Oh god Harry... oh you poor baby... look at what he's done to you... you didn't Harry... you didn't kill them... it's not your fault..."

Harry had no idea how long he had been there bawling like a newborn. He was violently trying to control himself, but the tears wouldn't stop coming. The muscles in his stomach wouldn't stop contracting, his gag reflex was suffocating him as hot torrents of mucous ran down his throat. "I just want to die Hermione," he sobbed, "I just want all of this to be over."

She took his head into her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. "It will be over Harry! But you can't do this alone. You have to let us in Harry, you have to let us help you. You have to allow yourself to love us Harry. The same way we love you, especially Ginny. If you keep shutting yourself away from her, you're shutting yourself away from the only way you can beat him Harry. You're shutting yourself away from the power that destroyed him when you were a baby. It's the only way you can win, I'm sure of it."

Harry's breathing began to slow as he regained his senses. He pulled Hermione to him tightly, burying his face in her jumper that was soaked with tears and snot. He had never felt so weakened and empty, and he clung on to his friend for dear life.

"Harry? Are you okay?"

Harry nodded his head into her shoulder, too weak to talk.

"I'm going to help get you to bed. You need to get some sleep, ok?"

He nodded again as Hermione helped him struggle to his feet, and using her for support, he slowly walked back to the house. They went through the door and into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley, who had been preparing breakfast, looked at Harry aghast.

"Merlin Harry! What happened?"

Hermione answered Ron's mother, fixing her with a look that told her to leave it alone for now. "He's fine Mrs. Weasley, he just needs a little sleep. It's been a rough morning." She helped him up the stairs and into his bed. Luckily, Ron was in the shower already; he didn't want anyone else asking him if he was okay.

"Try to get some sleep Harry, I'll come check on you in a bit."

The pain he saw in her eyes spoke volumes about the depth of her love for him, the love that all of them had for him. "_I'm so bloody lucky to have them." _was the last thought that went through his mind before he was overtaken by exhaustion.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Hermione Granger put Harry to bed and went back to the room she shared with Ginny. Her roommate, who was sitting up in bed reading, looked up at her as she came in. "Hi Gin."

"Hi Hermione" the redhead replied, looking back down at her book.

The silence yawned on for what seemed like hours. She and Ginny had argued before she had gone down to speak with Harry. Ginny didn't want her to get involved. If Harry couldn't see what a prat he was being on his own, then in her mind, he was beyond hope.

"I spoke to Harry."

"Congratulations," came the reply.

"Come on Ginny, you're not being fair."

"Not being fair?" She closed her book in her lap and turned to face Hermione. "I don't want you or anyone else fighting my battles for me Hermione. I'm sick of being treated like a helpless infant. I expected more from you."

"I know you're not helpless. I said that to Harry. And I wasn't fighting a battle for you. I was fighting a battle for all of us. If he continues to shut himself off from you, or me, or Ron, or anyone who loves him, he is going to lose to Voldemort and we are all going to die."

Ginny, open-mouthed, set her book aside and turned to face Hermione. "Did you say that to him?"

"Yes I did. And it's high time he heard it."

"How did he take it?"

"It upset him, but it needed to be said. He's only gotten more and more distant since Sirius died. Dumbledore's death obviously didn't help matters. Things are coming to a head Ginny. It's going to get very ugly, very soon and I'm worried about him. I'm worried about all of us. The prophecy states very clearly what he has within him to defeat Voldemort, but if he keeps pushing everyone he loves away because he's afraid he's going to lose them, that power will be meaningless. Not that I blame him for it. He's been through more than any of us can imagine, and the weight of the world has been put on his shoulders. He's going to need all of our help and that includes you."

Ginny let out a sigh as she absentmindedly picked at her pajamas. "I don't know what else to do Hermione." she said, shaking her head in frustration.

"Love him Ginny! Don't let him push you away! That's what you can do! At some point you are going to have to realize that Harry, as wonderful, and as special as he is, is damaged goods. And if you love him, you will keep fighting. If he tries to push you away, don't take it personally because it's not personal. Redouble your efforts and pull him closer. He's frightened out of his wits Ginny. Imagine how you would feel if you were him. If all this was thrust upon you when you'd never asked for it. If the people you loved were being murdered all around you. He just told me that it's his fault that his parents are dead for Merlin's sake. He's had a very hard life Ginny, and until this is all over, it's only going to get harder. If we make him do this alone he will fail."

Ginny's countenance softened. "He told you that? He thinks it was his fault?"

Hermione closed her eyes and nodded. "There is a part of him that believes that everything that has happened is his fault, that all of this could have been avoided if he had never been born."

"That's preposterous Hermione!" Ginny spluttered.

"I know it is. I tried explaining that to him, but I don't think words are going to help. We need to act Ginny, all of us. Our actions are the only thing that can save him." Hermione regarded Ginny as the girl contemplated what she had just said.

"I need some time alone Hermione." Ginny said, getting up from her bed. "I have to sort all of this out, figure out how to do what you are asking of me."

Hermione nodded at her. "You'll figure it out Gin. We all will as long as we stick together."

Ginny allowed a small smile to cross her lips as she opened the door. "Thanks Hermione."

Hermione returned the girl's smile. "No worries Gin. Do me a favor, tell Ron I need a little time to myself? Oh, and tell him to let Harry sleep in."

"Sure." Ginny left the room and closed the door behind her.

Hermione took the letters that Harry had given her out of her trunk, along with a dog-eared copy of '_Hogwarts, a History_'. She poured over the first letter, looking for any clues as to who could have written the cryptic missive.

_M.P._

_Under no circumstances are you to tell the animals that I engineered the "little accident" (although I think the old man suspects it already). It could undermine everything. It is essential that they hate me, now more than ever. I have started my journey through the door. Do not lose faith in me now. _

_H.P._

There was no mention of any sort of animals in '_Hogwarts, a History_' during the years that the Potters attended Hogwarts. Whatever H.P. was getting at, Hermione was sure that the animals weren't real animals, but a code name for specific people. Lily must have at least been on decent terms with these people if the writer was telling her to keep the 'little accident' secret from them. She was also certain that H.P. was not the writer's initials, just as M.P. was not Lily's; they were nicknames or code names of some sort.

She wondered if professor Lupin would know who 'the animals' were. After all, he had gone to school with Lily. Unfortunately, none of them had seen Lupin since Tonks' death. Moody and Arthur had visited him, and had not returned with good news. Lupin was despondent, and was seriously considering going to live among other werewolves in an attempt to swing them over to the side of the Order. It was tantamount to committing suicide; she hoped that someone would be able to talk him out of it. If only Sirius were alive, he'd be able to help his friend through this crisis. Hermione's brain began to whirl, the associations clicking into place.

"_If only Sirius were alive..."_

"_he was seriously considering going to live among other werewolves..."_

"_Under no circumstances are you to tell the animals that I engineered the 'little accident'"_

"_The animals_?" Hermione took in a sharp breath, scanning the letter once more. "_He's talking about the Marauders. The Marauders are the animals_!" Hermione got up and paced the room. "_Why was it 'essential' that James and his friends hate the author_? _What was the 'accident' that made them hate him_?" Hermione stopped pacing and closed her eyes, scanning her memory for anything she had ever heard about Harry's father. The occurrences at the shrieking shack flooded back into her consciousness.

"_Sirius thought it would be – er – amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he'd be able to get in after me. Well, of course Snape tried it – if he'd got as far as this house, he'd have met a fully grown werewolf – but your father, who'd heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life... Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anybody, but from that time on he knew what I was..._"

Hermione's mind was reeling. She looked down at the initials on the letter. "_H.P... Halfblood Prince? It can't be.. Were he and Lily friends? The book! Snape's book was at Godric's hollow!_" She had remembered Harry telling her that Snape had hated James because James had saved his life. And here was the letter stating as plain as day that Snape had engineered the whole thing. Why bother? James and Sirius already hated Snape. Why orchestrate anything else? Why engineer your own attempted murder? To get them expelled? Possibly... but another explanation for these events kept tickling the corners of her mind. She repeatedly thrust it aside, but it would not leave her consciousness. "_He didn't need them to hate him, he needed a plausible reason to hate them_."

She pulled the second letter out of it's envelope and read.

_M.P._

_This will be my last piece of correspondence for awhile. I am on the other side of the door – do not attempt to contact me if you want me to live. Keep my cloak as a token of our friendship and as thanks for all of your help._

_H.P._

_P.S. The old man knows, and does not agree with my actions, but there is nothing he can do to stop me._

Hermione dropped the letter as she pulled the door open. She needed to get to Harry's pensieve without waking him. Slinking down the hall, she gently opened the door to Ron's room. Harry was sound asleep. She creeped towards his trunk, silently opening it, and sifting through the vials of memories Dumbledore had left behind. "_God damn it! Where is it_?" Harry had told her that Dumbledore had shown him his memory of the prophecy, yet none of the vials were dated from 1979 or 1980 when the prophecy would have been made. "_Why didn't Dumbledore give Harry that memory_?" She needed to see it for herself. She would have to ask Harry about it when he woke without tipping her hand. She silently closed the trunk and snuck out of the room.

She and Ron were eating lunch when Harry had finally awoken. He came into the kitchen looking better than Hermione had seen him in a long time. "Feeling better Harry?"

"Starving" the boy replied, "but yeah I feel really good. Thanks for the talk this morning. You're right Hermione, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to be a prat now and again."

"That's okay" Ron interrupted, "as least you'll know when you're being a prat now."

The three ate in silence for awhile. Hermione and Harry were ravenous as they had both missed breakfast. Ron hadn't, but then again, he was a bottomless pit. When they were close to being finished, Hermione broke the silence. "Harry, I was wondering if I could look at another memory in the pensieve."

"Sure Hermione, did you have a specific one in mind?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. You said that Dumbledore had shown you professor Trelawney delivering the prophecy. I was hoping I could see it for myself, maybe see if there was some loophole in it or something. Something that maybe you missed."

She watched Harry as his eyebrows furrowed. He looked at her as if he was trying to sort something out. "I don't think I have it Hermione. I don't remember seeing it among the vials."

"Can we double check? It could be important."

The three of them returned to Ron's room, and after a thorough check of the vials, Harry confirmed that the prophecy wasn't there.

"Well that's strange," Harry said to no one in particular, "everything else is here, why not that one?"

"Maybe Dumbledore hid it or destroyed it," offered Ron, "maybe he didn't want it falling into the wrong hands."

Hermione headed them off before they could explore the topic any further. "You're probably right Ron. Well, no matter, I doubt I would have seen anything important anyway, we all know what was said. Still, I've always wanted to see Trelawney give a real prophecy instead of all that nonsense she spouted in class. It must have been fascinating."

"Well yeah," Harry answered, "the prophecy itself was, but I didn't realize how much she changed while giving a real prophecy until I witnessed the one about Wormtail in person. She got all wonky and her voice changed. It was pretty creepy actually."

"What do you mean Harry?"

"Well, just that when Dumbledore showed me the prophecy about me and Voldemort, she was just floating on the surface of the pensieve. I could tell it was her, but she was too small for me to actually see how her face changed and all that."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. "_Dumbledore had always taken Harry into the pensieve with him, except on this one occasion. Why? What was he hiding? What else had happened in that room that he didn't want Harry to see?_ _Merlin I hope this works!_"

"Harry," she said after a moment, "would you mind if I looked the Wormtail prophecy?"

"Why would you want to see that?"

"Just curiosity really, I've never seen her give a real prophecy. I just wanted to know what it looked like is all."

Harry shrugged and gently pulled the memory from his head as the pensive instructions had directed. "Knock yourself out Hermione. I still don't know why you'd want to bother though."

"Like I said, just thought it would be fascinating to see someone deliver a real prophecy."

Harry and Ron looked at each other and shrugged. "Well, I hope you enjoy it." Harry offered, "Meet us downstairs? We need to plan a trip to Hogwarts to meet with McGonagall."

"Yeah, be down in a minute." Once the boys had left, Hermione thrust her head into the basin and plummeted downwards into the divination classroom, already having a fair idea of what she was about to witness. When the memory ended she was out of breath. Trelawney was completely out to lunch when she gave the prophecy to Harry. She had no idea that Harry was even in the room. It had confirmed what the letters had hinted at. As much as she didn't want to believe it, it was the only thing that made sense.

"_Professor Dumbledore told Harry that the eavesdropper only heard the first part of the prophecy before he was ejected from the Hogs Head."_

"_Harry told me that Trelawney said she saw Snape, that he was the eavesdropper."_

"_Both of those stories can't be true. If Snape was detected before she finished delivering the prophecy, then she couldn't have seen him... If Trelawney saw him, then Snape..." _

"_It can't be... he killed Dumbledore..." _ her thoughts turned to the last time she had seen the headmaster, sickened at the sight of the dead blackened hand. Her mind journeyed back to the first potions class she had ever taken._ "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death..."_

"_Well – I jus' heard Snape sayin' Dumbledore took too much fer granted an' maybe he – Snape – didn' wan' ter do it anymore –"_

She bolted down the stairs and found the boys in the garden.

"Hey Hermione," Harry called, "how was the memory, everything you'd hoped for?"

She hoped she looked more nonchalant than she felt. She tried her hardest to speak of it as if she had read about it in a book. "It was quite fascinating actually, you were right about her voice Harry, really creepy. So, what are we going to do about seeing professor McGonagall?"

"Harry figures we should go tomorrow." Ron offered, "She really can't say anything to him – he couldn't go back even if he wanted to – he's supposed to be dead."

"I'm still coming with you for support." Harry interjected, "You're going to need all the help you can get."

"Thanks Harry. I appreciate it. Oh Ronald, I almost forgot, we need to talk about coordinating our outfits for the wedding."

Ron rolled his eyes towards the heavens. "For Merlin's sake Hermione, do we have to do this now?"

"If you think I'm going to march down that aisle on your arm looking like a complete prat, you've got another think coming! Sorry Harry, give us a moment? It won't take long, I promise."

Harry laughed at the sight of his friend looking utterly miserable at the concept of discussing eveningwear. "Sure thing Hermione – good luck Ron."

Hermione mocked being insulted. "Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just kidding Hermione." Harry chuckled as he walked off.

When he was out of earshot, Hermione became all business. "Ron I need to talk to you about something very important, something you can't repeat to Harry. You need to promise to keep this a secret for right now."

Ron, looking alarmed, nodded vigorously. "Yeah, I promise, is Harry okay?"

"He's fine... well... no he's not fine but this is different..."

Hermione told Ron why she wanted to see Harry's memory of professor Trelawney. She recounted the facts to him one at a time, and then uttered the inescapable conclusion that she knew he wouldn't want to believe.

Ron was silent for a moment, simply staring at her. "You're completely barmy, you know that?"

"Nothing else makes sense Ronald. If Trelawney saw Snape, she could have only done so before or after she gave that prophecy – not in the middle of giving it. And either way it comes to the same thing – Snape only told Voldemort the first half – the part Dumbledore wanted Voldemort to know – the whole thing was a setup to get Voldemort to create his own worst enemy. It's the only answer that fits."

"How do we know that Trelawney was telling the truth?"

"Why would she lie to Harry about that Ron? What would she have to gain?"

"Why would Dumbledore lie to Harry?"

"Because Voldemort was flitting around inside Harry's head! Dumbledore telling Harry that Snape heard the whole thing would have been the same as telling Voldemort. He would have been signing Snape's death warrant. Do you think it was a mere coincidence that all of a sudden it became incredibly important for Harry to learn Occlumency?"

"I don't know Hermione... what if Trelawney was mistaken? She does drink an awful lot you know."

"I know Ron, and if Trelawney didn't remember something, I would be agreeing with you that alcohol might have affected her memory. But alcohol doesn't make you hallucinate. If she says she saw Snape, I believe her."

Hermione could see that Ron was quickly running out of arguments. She knew he only had one left, one unfortunately, that she had no answer for. "He killed Dumbledore Hermione! Harry watched him do it! How can you believe he's on our side?"

"I can't answer that Ron," she admitted, "not yet. That's the only fact that doesn't fit yet. But I'm starting to wonder about what really went on with Dumbledore's hand. He never did explain it to Harry. What if it was way worse than he let on?"

"How could it be worse? The thing looked dead!"

"Exactly my point Ronald. Dumbledore told Harry that he went to Snape for help after he destroyed the ring. Not madam Pomfrey, Snape." She then reminded him of the first thing they had ever heard come out of the potion master's mouth.

Ron was shaking his head in disbelief. As much as she loved him, maybe it was a mistake to confide in him. He hated Snape almost as much as Harry. "I'm not asking you to agree with me Ron. I don't want to believe it myself. I'm just asking you to think about it. If you can come up with an alternative explanation for all of this, believe me I'll be all ears."

"But you think you're right."

"I think so, yes."

"Geez Hermione, I never thought I'd say this, but I really wish we were talking about what we're going to wear to the wedding. What if you are right? Do we tell Harry? Would he even believe us?"

"If I'm right, this has to be our secret, at least until I get that Occlumency book back from Fred and George. If I'm right, all of us, including Ginny are going to have to learn to block our minds from intruders."

"If you're right," Ron replied, "we're going to have to tie Harry down to his bed again..."


	9. Hogwarts and the Hollow

Ron Weasley awoke to the sound of Harry snoring. He hadn't seen his friend sleep this well in ages. Hermione had told him of her confrontation with Harry the day before, and it seemed to have a profound effect on his friend, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. They had spent the better part of last night sifting through the remaining memories in Harry's pensieve. Ron could tell that Harry had thought it was a bit unusual that he had wanted to see Trelawney's prediction about Pettigrew as well, but after what Hermione had confided in him, he had to see it for himself. Luckily, Harry didn't pursue it, forging on through the rest of the memories instead.

Harry was particularly concerned with the memory that depicted Riddle in Dumbledore's office. Harry was convinced that he was missing something, but he wasn't sure what. Ron's first thought upon seeing it was the same as Harry's; that they were watching Voldemort as he cursed the DADA position, thereby assuring that no one would have decent enough training to oppose him. Harry felt there was something more however, and suggested that Riddle may have hidden one of his Horcruxes inside the walls of Hogwarts itself. The problem was that the memory gave no credence to that theory.

He got up and showered. By the time he arrived in the kitchen, his mother was already starting to prepare breakfast. Fat sausages sizzled on the stove and the smell of freshly baked bread coming from the oven tickled his nostrils until he could no longer keep his temptation at bay.

"Ronald Weasley!" his mother chided while hitting his hand with a stinging hex, "Get away from those sausages and go wake Harry. Tell him breakfast is almost ready." Ron obeyed, sucking his red knuckles where the stinging hex had found its mark. He returned to his bedroom to find Harry already awake, and after informing him that breakfast was almost ready, made a beeline back down to the kitchen. When he arrived, he found Hermione and Ginny helping Mrs. Weasley finish the cooking.

Once everyone was seated and eating, Mrs. Weasley announced that it would be a good day to go to Diagon Alley to pick up everyone's school supplies. There was a moment of silence at the table as Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked at one another. "Actually mum, we need to go to Hogwarts today. Professor McGonagall wanted to speak to us.

"What about?" his mother queried.

"Not sure mum... Harry spoke to her actually. What did she say she wanted to talk about Harry?"

Harry gave his friend a dirty look at being put on the spot, but recovered quickly. "Not exactly sure... stuff about NEWTS I suppose..."

"Well, that's okay," Molly answered, "Just leave me your book lists and Ginny and I will pick up everything for you."

Ron couldn't let his mother spend part of the family's meager savings on books that would go unused. "That's okay mum, we can go ourselves later in the week. I don't want you and Ginny to have to carry all of those bulky, heavy books."

"Nonsense Ronald, I'll just put a shrinking charm on them."

Ron was beginning to panic; he didn't want to tell his mother that he wasn't returning to Hogwarts just yet, but he didn't want her to waste the family's money either. His ears began to turn pink as he desperately thought of a way out of this mess. He looked helplessly at Harry and Hermione, who obviously hadn't the faintest idea what to say. Luckily, Ginny was quick on the uptake and came to the rescue. "They'd have to go back to Diagon Alley anyway mum. All NEWT year students have to personally sign for their potions ingredients now. Some of the things they need for class are controlled substances, and with everything that's happening, the ministry wants to keep track of where those substances end up."

Molly sighed in resignation. "Well that's just preposterous. Treating students like common criminals. Very well, you can go on your own later this week. You however," she said as she looked at Ginny, "are coming with me today."

Ron breathed a silent 'thank you' to his sister. The facility with which she could perpetrate a lie was astounding. It was if she had raised it to an art form. As his mother turned around to pull the kettle off the stove, Ginny mouthed 'You owe me'. After everyone was finished eating, he, Harry and Hermione cleared the table and did the dishes as Mrs. Weasley and Ginny made their final preparations to leave.

"Will you be back in time for supper?" Mrs. Weasley called from the living room.

"Not sure mum, we don't know how long this is going to take. Don't make extra just for us. We can always make a sandwich later if we need to." Molly gave her son an odd look. "Are you feeling all right?" she asked, looking concerned. Ron turning down food was like a vampire saying no to blood. "Yeah mum, fine. I just don't want you to waste food is all."

"The leftovers will keep if you're not back in time. Are you ready Ginny? Okay then, we're off. Have a nice day at Hogwarts dears, and say hello to Minerva for me. Ronald, come here and give your mother a kiss." Ron rolled his eyes as he went to kiss his mother goodbye. She enveloped him in a bone breaking hug. "You be careful now." She admonished, hugging him even tighter.

"It's just Hogwarts mum" he protested, and then remembering that Dumbledore had just been murdered within its walls, added "but I promise we'll be extra careful." Molly, seemingly satisfied with his answer, followed Ginny into the fireplace, and vanished after a few spins.

It was almost time for their appointment with McGonagall. Harry went upstairs to get his invisibility cloak. He wouldn't need it for their journey to Hogwarts as they were going to floo there, but he would need it later that day when they visited Godric's Hollow. When Harry had come back downstairs, they stepped into the fireplace one by one. When Ron stopped spinning, he stepped out of the fireplace in professor McGonagall's office. Harry and Hermione were already brushing ashes off of their cloaks. On her desk was a note that read; "_Meet me in the headmaster's office. The new password is 'butter biscuits'_.

Ron smiled at professor McGonagall's tribute to Albus Dumbledore. He supposed it was her own way of dealing with her loss. The three of them stepped out of the office and into the hallway. Professor McGonagall had assured them by owl that the castle would be completely deserted today, so there was no need for Harry to stay under his cloak. None of them really had any idea as to what to expect from the new headmistress. They had decided that the best course of action was to let Harry do most of the talking.

As they reached the seventh floor, they passed a blank patch of wall opposite a tapestry showing Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls to dance the ballet. Harry paused for a moment staring at the polished stone. "Not now Harry" Ron said, taking his friend gently by the arm, "let's meet with McGonagall first, and then if we have time later, we'll come back."

Harry snapped out of the daze he was in and nodded. "You're right. First things first." When they reached the stone gargoyle guarding the stairway to the headmistress's office, Hermione spoke the password. The gargoyle moved aside as the wall behind it split in two, revealing the moving spiral staircase that led up to Dumbledore's former chambers. Harry knocked on the oak door as they reached the top of the stairs. A few seconds later, professor McGonagall greeted them. "Please come in and sit down.".

Ron's eyes immediately focused on the portrait of Albus Dumbledore fastened to the wall. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be napping. Ron swallowed hard; it was still hard to fathom that Dumbledore was dead. As he looked away, he realized that Harry and Hermione had been looking at the portrait as well. "Has he said anything yet?" Harry asked the headmistress.

"Not yet Mr. Potter, no. It can take weeks, or sometimes even months before a portrait wakes from its initial slumber."

The three of them took seats in stiff backed chairs across the desk from the headmistress who seemed to be studying them with a look that made Ron slightly nervous. The chairs were so uncomfortable that he wondered if McGonagall had conjured them specifically for the occasion. Finally, she broke the silence. "So, assuming I did not misinterpret Mr. Weasley's impersonation of a fountain the other evening, it is my impression that the three of you will not be returning to complete your education. Is that a fair assumption?"

Just as they had agreed upon, Harry answered her. It's not that we don't want to return to Hogwarts, it's just that we can't right now. There are things I need to do that require Ron and Hermione's help. And even if I didn't need their help, they would never let me do these things alone."

"By these... things... Mr. Potter, I assume you are talking about whatever it was that you and the headmaster were up to last term?"

"Yes professor." Harry said simply.

"And these things have to do with bringing about the downfall of Voldemort?"

"Yes professor."

"And I assume you still are adamant about not sharing any of this with the Order?"

"I'm sorry. I made a promise to Dumbledore."

"And these things you must do, they cannot be done using Hogwarts as a base of operations?"

"It's possible that they could I suppose, but since I'm supposed to be dead, I can hardly be seen traipsing around the great hall. Not to mention that even if people knew I was alive, I would have to miss so many classes and so much study time, I'd have to repeat my seventh year anyway."

McGonagall was silent for a moment, studying Harry's face before she continued. "Mr. Potter, may I speak candidly?"

"Of course professor."

"Albus shared the contents of the prophecy with me before he left with you that night last term. I had the distinct feeling from his tone that it might be the last time I ever saw him alive. From what the prophecy states, it is very clear that there only two possible outcomes. One: you will defeat Voldemort, in which case no one will care about what you did in your NEWT year. You will be allowed to have any job you want. Even if you choose to pursue a career as an auror, you will not be turned down." The headmistress took a deep breath before she continued. "Two: Voldemort will defeat you, in which case, your NEWT year won't matter anyway."

"Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger however, need to finish their NEWTS. Without them it will be difficult for them to get decent jobs. While it is true that they could finish them next year along with the current 6th years, I think it is unfair to them that you will have gone off in the world to pursue your dreams, while they are stuck at school for an extra year. With that in mind, I would like to offer a compromise of sorts. Base your operations from Hogwarts. Allow Ron and Hermione to attend classes whenever they are not assisting you. They will be granted leniency as far as attendance and homework assignments are concerned. If they are willing to work hard, they should be able to pass their NEWT exams."

"And what about me?" Harry asked, "Am I to stay beneath my invisibility cloak at all times?"

"I should hope not Mr. Potter. I have asked Dobby to restore the interior of the Shrieking Shack. In it, you will now find a very comfortable three bedroom flat with all the amenities of home. Dobby's sole job at Hogwarts this year will be as caretaker of your residence. He will provide your meals just as if you ate in the dining hall. This will provide you with a residence that no one will go near, and that no one can see into. Any noise you make will be attributed to it being haunted. You may apparate in and out of it as you please, and the underground passage connects to Hogwarts so that you may have access to whatever resources you may find you have a need for. I have placed a charm on the whomping willow that causes it to freeze for the three of you and only the three of you. It will be safer than the Burrow or Grimauld Place and will provide more privacy and secrecy than either of those places as well."

"Of course, if Ron and Hermione are staying with you, other students will wonder where they are sleeping, which is why I have no choice but to offer them these as part of the bargain." She held out her hands to Ron and Hermione, each one containing a shiny badge. One read '_Head Boy_', and the other '_Head Girl_'. The head boy and girl have their own, separate dormitory with their own personal house elf, whom conveniently enough, will be Dobby. That way, no one need question their living arrangements.

Furthermore, the fireplace in their dormitory has a private connection to the one in the Shrieking Shack should you find the Whomping Willow passage to be an inconvenience."

McGonagall was playing dirty, but Ron had to admire her for it. Harry knew as well as she that once Hermione had that head girl badge in her hands, it would break her heart to let it go. Ron had to admit that even he was reluctant to give up that honor. He'd been dreaming of it since before he even started school. Ron looked sideways at Hermione. She had the badge in her hand and was studying every facet of it, her eyes misting over with regret, knowing she would have to give it back. Harry seemed to be studying Hermione just as intently as she was studying the badge. Finally, he turned back to McGonagall and asked, "does Kreachur know about any of this?"

"Aside from Dobby and myself, no one else at Hogwarts knows of this little arrangement. Not the house elves, not the teachers, not even Hagrid."

Harry was silent as he considered the headmistress's offer. He looked at Hermione who was still staring at her badge with intense longing. After a moment he let out a sigh and said "Okay, you've got a deal."

Hermione jumped out of her chair screaming with joy and smothered Harry, jumping up and down as she hugged and kissed him. "Thank you Harry! Oh thank you!" she cried, tears of happiness welling up in her eyes.

"Okay, okay Hermione. You're welcome. Try not to throttle me to death."

Professor McGonagall allowed a smile to cross her lips as she watched Hermione jumping up and down with glee. "I knew you would make the right choice Mr. Potter."

Hermione turned to the headmistress beaming from ear to ear. "Thank you professor! Ron and I won't let you down! We'll work as hard as we have to in order to pass our NEWTS, won't we Ron?"

In actuality, Ron couldn't be less pleased with the idea of trying to tackle his NEWT year when he would be missing classes and homework assignments, never mind hunting down bits of Voldemorts soul. He didn't see how he was going to find time to sleep at all for the next year. Still, he loved Hermione more than anything, and seeing her this happy was worth the scores of all-nighters that were surely on the horizon. "Of course Hermione. We'll work as hard as we have to." He said with a weak smile.

"Good," the headmistress continued, "now that that's settled, I'm afraid I still have to find someone willing to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"What about professor Lupin?" Harry asked, "He was the best DADA professor we ever had."

"I don't know that professor Lupin is up to the task Harry. He is a fine teacher, but as you know he suffered a great loss recently."

"That's exactly why he needs to be here. Please let me talk to him."

McGonagall sighed and closed her eyes. When she opened them she spoke again. "I'm sorry Mr. Potter, but very few students are returning as it is. I happen to agree with your assessment of his teaching skills; however there are many parents who would immediately take their children back home once they knew he was on staff."

"Because of what he is," Harry said acidly.

"I'm afraid so Mr. Potter. People are terrified now that they know Voldemort is back. Having someone inside Hogwarts with professor Lupin's... condition, would not go over well. I'm sorry, but it is out of my hands."

Harry was not happy with her reply, but he knew there was nothing she could do about it, and he could tell from her expression that she too, wished that Lupin could return. He started to rise from his chair and then sat back down.

"Actually professor, there was something else I was hoping you could help me with."

"Yes Mr. Potter?"

"I'd like to visit my parent's graves and the house I was born in. Do you know where they are?"

McGonagall seemed to stiffen at the question, a slight sadness overtaking her features. "Godric's Hollow is in Wales Mr. Potter. How were you planning on getting there? You can't exactly take the knight bus if you're supposed to be deceased."

"I was going to side along with Hermione or Ron. I've done it before. It shouldn't be a problem."

The headmistress seemed to soften, her face tightened with concern. "Are you sure you want to put yourself through this Harry?"

"I have to go professor. I think professor Dumbledore wanted me to go."

Professor McGonagall let out a small sigh. "Very well, the fireplace in my old office is connected to the one at Godric's Hollow. Albus set up a simple two way connection that is not connected to the rest of the floo system. The only way to floo there is from my office, so it should be safe enough. Be sure to keep your cloak on. You can't afford to be seen."

"I will professor, thanks for everything."

Ron and Hermione echoed Harry's thanks, and the three of them left her office leaving her to her work.

As they walked back to McGonagall's old office, Harry once again stopped in front of the blank wall that hid the room of requirement, but quickly decided to leave it for another time. He would, after all, have access to it whenever he pleased during the school year, and he wanted to get to Godric's Hollow before dark.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Harry stepped out of the fireplace into the cold, dilapidated sitting room. It looked nothing like the warm, cozy room he had seen in the picture given to him by his aunt. If Harry hadn't already known what had happened here, he would have assumed that he had flooed to the wrong house. There was barely any light coming in through the boarded up windows. Harry drew his wand and said "Lumos". It was still daylight outside; no one would notice. He barely registered Ron and Hermione as they stepped from the fireplace. The room was black with soot, and the walls and furniture were warped from water damage. The pictures that were once on the wall now lay on the floor in their shattered frames. Harry quickly cast Reparo on them and then shrunk them down so he could take them with him. As far as he was concerned, he planned on taking anything that wasn't nailed down.

"What are we looking for?" Ron whispered.

"A key primarily, but anything that looks like it even might be interesting, I want to know about it." He went to the bookcase, but the books in it were charred almost beyond recognition. He cast his eyes downward pointing his wand at the floor, scouring every inch of it for any sign of the key, or anything else that might prove interesting or useful.

They spent the better part of two hours going over the ground floor of the house with a fine toothed comb, but found nothing that wasn't damaged beyond recognition. Stopping at the foot of the stairs, Harry's breathing began to become labored. He felt Ron's hand squeeze his shoulder. "We don't have to do this right now mate. We can come back if you're not up for it."

Harry steeled himself and took control of his breathing. He wasn't going to wait for another time. He was going up there now. "Thanks Ron, I'll be fine. Wait here, both of you. I want to go in alone. I'll call you if I need you." As Harry climbed the steps, he could hear his mother's screams echoing in his head. Shaking it from his consciousness as he reached the landing, he put his hand to the doorknob of his bedroom. His breath hissed in and out through his clenched teeth as he gripped the doorknob tightly to keep his hand from shaking. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and threw the door open.

Similar to the downstairs area, the walls were so badly charred it was impossible to tell what color they had once been. His crib stood at the far end of the room, shattered into pieces. His wand casting light in front of him, he slowly moved into the room, his eyes scouring it for any piece of information about what had happened here. As the light from his wand fell on the mutilated crib, a glint of light reflected back towards his eyes. "_The key! I knew it! I knew it would be here!"_

Harry moved quickly towards the crib, and as he reached it, he stopped cold. There, lying underneath his crib, was not a key at all, but something much larger. He quickly dug it out from under the pile of wood and plaster, picked it up off of the floor and held his wand up to it. It was a shield. The crest on the front was unmistakable. It was the crest of Godric Gryffindor. "Holy shit!" Harry exclaimed, as he dropped it to the ground as if it were broiling hot and quickly backed away. Hermione and Ron came running up the stairs and into the room. "What is it Harry? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Harry panted, "but I think I just found one." Harry watched his friend's mouths drop open as he pointed to the shield on the ground.

"Don't touch it!" Hermione warned.

"Too late," Harry replied, almost out of breath.

"Merlin Harry! Are you all right?"

Harry nodded his head furiously. "I think so," He took a mental inventory of his body, and found that aside from being scared shitless, he was absolutely fine. "Yeah, I'm okay."

Hermione and Ron stared down at the shield with looks of dread, and then back up at Harry. "What do you suppose we should do?" Ron asked, his voice slightly trembling.

"I don't know," Harry replied, "give me a minute to think."

After calming down, Harry decided that if he had touched it once already, he could safely touch it again. As he bent down to pick it up, Hermione shouted "Wait!"

"I've already touched it Hermione, I'm fine. I was just scared for a moment when I realized what it was. It didn't hurt me."

"I know Harry, but just to be safe, we should check it for dark magic first."

"Ron screwed up his face at her. "How are we going to do that?"

"With a spell Ronald."

"Where'd you learn a spell like that?" the redhead demanded.

"The Standard Book of Spells Grade Seven of course," came her reply.

"You bought the book even when you thought we weren't going back to school?"

"I thought that a little independent study couldn't hurt. As it turns out, it's going to be right useful."

Harry stopped her before she could get her wand from under her robes. "No Hermione let me do it. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you. Teach me the spell and I'll do it."

After ten minutes of instruction with Hermione, Harry felt confident enough to cast the spell. He walked up to the shield and aimed his wand, muttering the incantation. The shield glowed a bright shade of sky blue, which according to Hermione, meant there was no dark magic involved.

"Are you sure I cast it right Hermione?"

"Positive Harry. The blue light we saw means it's magical, which isn't surprising given that it belonged to Gryffindor, but if there were dark magic, it would have glowed red or black."

Harry couldn't help but be disappointed. He thought he had stumbled onto one of the Horcruxes. He shrunk the shield down and stored it with the pictures he had taken from the sitting room. Hermione, sensing his disenchantment said "Don't worry Harry. We'll find them all and you never know, that shield could have some useful magic in it. I'll have to research it when we get home." They spent the rest of the afternoon searching the upstairs of the house. Finally, after about an hour, Harry heard Ron shouting. "What is it Ron?'

"The key Harry! I found your key!" Ron handed it to him beaming with pride. It was a tiny key that certainly looked like it would fit his mother's diary.

"Excellent job mate. I think we've seen everything we need to here. I want to see my parents now."

OOOOOOOOOOO

They went to the graveyard, Ron and Hermione staying a distance away in order to give Harry some private time with his parents at their graveside. They quietly held hands as they kept an eye on Harry. Ron finally broke the silence. "Shame that people are too ignorant to let our best DADA professor teach us again. Do you think Harry would be able to convince Lupin to teach us Occlumency? It'd be good for him you know. Maybe give him something to do. Take his mind off things. Dad says he's really bad off. He couldn't even give her a proper funeral for Merlin's sake. Couldn't risk anyone finding out that it was her that died and not Harry."

"They'll figure it out eventually though won't they? I mean, once she hasn't shown up to work in a few days?"

"She took two weeks vacation right before she switched places with Harry. Lupin wants to keep them in the dark as long as possible."

"Is he coming to the wedding?"

"Dad invited him of course, but I doubt it. Not that I blame him. Who'd want to be at a wedding after what he's just been through?"

Hermione couldn't even imagine how painful it would be for Remus to attend Bill and Fleur's wedding after he had just lost Tonks. "No, of course he's not coming. Then we need to go to him. We need to talk to him Ron. Even if he's not ready to teach, maybe he could help us with Occlumency, like you said – to take his mind off of things. We need to see if we can help him. I know Harry hasn't said it out loud, but he feels responsible for Tonks' death. The two of them need to speak to each other."

"Well, tomorrow's as good a day as any. May as well get the hell out of the Burrow for the day. Mum and Fleur are going to be barking with starting the final wedding preparations and all."

After a half an hour, they saw Harry get up from his knees and slowly walk towards them. Hermione was worried that he would be devastated, but when he got close enough for them to make out his features, he seemed to be smiling a little.

"You okay mate?" Ron asked tentatively.

"Yeah. Yeah I am okay." He turned to Hermione and with a sad smile added, "I know it's not my fault." Hermione's eyes lit up and she returned his smile, pulling him into her arms hugging him tightly. When the hug went on a little too long for Ron's taste, he cleared his throat. Hermione and Harry both looked at him and laughed. "Ronald Weasley," Hermione started, "you are absolutely delectable when you get jealous." The amorous way that she was eying him made him turn a deep shade of red. The three of them returned to the house and Harry looked around one last time. Finally he said, "Let's go home," and the three of them stepped into the fireplace.

When they arrived at the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley was just beginning to serve dinner. "How was your trip dears? What did the headmistress want to talk to you about?" she inquired, as they entered the kitchen. Fred and George glanced at each other, grinning as they waited for their younger brother to tell their mum he wasn't going back to school.

"The trip was fantastic Mrs. Weasley," Hermione answered, glancing at the twins. "Ron's made head boy."

The kitchen was completely silent for a full minute as everyone at the table tried to work out if they had just heard Hermione correctly. Molly Weasley was frozen to the spot. The twins were staring at him open mouthed. "No way!" they chorused.

Ron took the badge out of his pocket and held it up for his family to see, and nodding his head, said, "Way, and Hermione's head girl."

Fortunately, Arthur Weasley had his wand at the ready as his wife had completely forgotten about the rather large pot of beef stew she was holding. She dropped it and ran towards her son shrieking like a mental patient. "Oh Ron! I knew you could do it! Three head boys in the family!" she screamed, throwing her arms around him and kissing him repeatedly. "Just like Bill and Per-" Her excitement died down a little as she mentioned Percy's name. he was still ignoring the family and acting like a complete git. Mrs. Weasley looked into Ron's eyes as tears of joy ran down her cheeks. "I'm so proud of you Ron. And you too Hermione" she said, enveloping the girl in a hug, "I'm so proud of both of you."

"Thanks Mrs. Weasley."

Dinner that night was a light hearted affair (except for the twins, who had lost their leverage over Harry, Ron, and Hermione), as the Weasley's celebrated Ron and Hermione's appointments at school. Ron stared at the table wide eyed as Mrs. Weasley piled more and platters of his favorite foods onto it. "Where'd all this food come from mum?"

"It was for the wedding." Molly admitted looking at her son glowingly, "I'll go shopping again tomorrow. It's not every day that you get appointed Head Boy." Bill, Charlie, and Fleur showed up for dessert, and soon the household was filled with the sounds of laughter and singing (Charlie had even made a joke about the black eye Harry had given him). Harry noticed to his relief that Ginny was more open and friendly with him than she'd been since the breakup. They wouldn't have a chance to talk tonight, but her disposition gave Harry hope that their relationship wasn't beyond repair. He was madly in love with her, and he had every intention of letting her know it. Hermione had been right. They could all be dead within a year and he wouldn't ever take any time he spent with his favorite family for granted again. After dinner, the twins cornered Hermione and Ron.

"Pretty neat trick getting head boy..."

"... and head girl..."

"... especially when you're not going back to school." They said in unison.

"Things change," Hermione answered, "as it turns out we are going back. Oh and while it's on my mind, I need that book back. We're going to need to learn Occlumency."

"But you already know it." Fred argued.

"No we don't. I just needed you out of the way for awhile."

George turned to his twin. "Brother of mine, I believe we've been had."

Hermione went up the stairs to meet Harry in Ron's room as Ron went to retrieve the book from the twins. She received quite a shock when she opened the door and found a book flying at her head while Harry swore like a sailor. She ducked just in time as the book hit the door and bounced out into the hallway.

"Harry! What has gotten in to you?"

"The damn –" He lowered his voice, not wanting Mrs. Weasley to hear him swearing. "The damn diary won't open; the key doesn't work."

"Well, maybe it's not the right key. We could go back and –"

"It's the right key Hermione!" Harry interrupted, "It turns in the lock and the cylinder clicks, but the damn thing won't open."

"Maybe you have to use magic and the key. Maybe if you tried to unlock it while using Alohomora – "

"I tried that."

"Maybe the key is charmed to only work for a specific person." she offered, trying to calm him down.

"I'm her only bloody son for Merlin's sake! If it doesn't work for me, who is it going to work for?"

"I don't know Harry, but you need to stop taking it personally. She could have had that diary before you were even conceived. She could have had it at Hogwarts. She could have charmed the lock then."

"This H.P. character maybe? The bloke who wrote her the letters?"

Hermione blanched. She didn't want to reveal who she thought H.P. might actually be. "You don't know that it was a man Harry, H.P. could be anyone."

"Then how the hell are we supposed to find him... or her?"

"I'm working on it Harry but I need time."

"I want to meet my mother Hermione. I want to read her thoughts. I want to know what she was like. You have no idea how frustrating this is."

Hermione pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry Harry; I know how difficult this must be for you. I'm trying my best to figure out who wrote the letters. I really am."

"I know you are," Harry said quietly, "thank you. I'm really glad you're my friend."

Hermione kissed him on the cheek and retrieved the diary from the hallway. "We'll get it open Harry, I promise." She walked back to the room she shared with Ginny, who was already asleep. She got into bed and turned off the light, but sleep wouldn't come. _"If I'm right, and Snape is the person who can open that diary, what will it do to Harry? How will he feel about his mother then?"_


	10. Quality Time With Lupin

Harry awoke the next morning to the sounds of chaos. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he noticed that Ron's bed was already empty. "_Ron's awake before me?_ _Well that's a first."_ Harry thought to himself as he stretched and yawned widely. The first intelligible noise that greeted him when he opened the bedroom door was the sound of Molly Weasley, who was quite obviously agitated. "... only eight days away! I will not have you loafing about the house when there is work to be done!" "_If Ginny and I ever get married," _Harry thought to himself, "_we're eloping."_

Harry got dressed, trundled down the stairs and entered the kitchen to find Mrs. Weasley running around like a chicken with her head cut off, barking orders at Arthur while simultaneously trying to give Ginny a haircut and make alterations on Fleur's wedding dress. When she saw Harry, her disposition softened slightly. "Sorry about the noise Harry dear. There's just so much we need to get done before the wedding. There's some bread and cheese on the table if you're hungry." Ginny gave Harry a pleading look that said '_Please get me out of here!"_ but before he could respond, Mrs. Weasley shooed him out of the kitchen. "Ron and the twins are in the backyard Harry. Why don't you see how they're coming along with the tent?" Harry gave Ginny a helpless shrug as if to say '_I don't know what to do.', _and after hastily making himself a cheese sandwich, went outside to the garden.

Harry was awestruck as he stepped outside. Ron, Fred, and George, wands drawn, were attempting to erect the most humongous tent that Harry had ever seen. To say that it would quite comfortably fit both the Weasley and Delacour families was an understatement. It might also fit Hagrid's family along with half of wizarding Britain and a couple of Hungarian Horntails. The boys, faces dripping with sweat, were glaring at Fleur who was barking orders at them. "Careful wiz ze turrets boys! You are going to make zem collapse! A little more to ze right! Now to ze left! Non non! Too much! Now back to ze right! Watch ze trees!" Harry laughed out loud at the mutinous looks on the boys' faces and wandered to the edge of the property to see what Bill and Charlie were up to.

"Morning Harry." Bill welcomed absently. "Morning Harry." Charlie echoed. Harry could see that Bill and Charlie were very absorbed in their work, and after a few minutes of studying them, figured out that they were putting anti-apparition wards around the perimeter of the Burrow. Not wanting to bother them, Harry walked back towards the interior of the property where he saw Mr. Weasley focusing his wand on a particular piece of ground.

"Good morning Mr. Weasley." Arthur looked up from his work, "Ahh, good morning Harry. Just making an apparition point for our guests to arrive at."

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of the anti-apparition wards Bill and Charlie are working on?"

"No Harry. That's the brilliance of it. No one can apparate to this point unless they have specifically been invited."

"Have you seen Hermione?"

"Not recently Harry, sorry. It's a bit chaotic around here today."

"Anything I can help you with?" Harry had known better than to ask the same question of Fleur earlier.

"I'm afraid not Harry. Please don't take this the wrong way, but it's probably a good day to curl up on your bed with a good book. You don't want to get yourself involved in all of this, trust me."

With nothing to do, Harry went back inside. Ginny, still sitting in a chair in the kitchen, looked as if she would rather have been back in the Chamber of Secrets than here at this particular moment. A pair of scissors was haphazardly making its way around her head. "Hey Ginny, have you seen Hermione?" Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but Mrs. Weasley interrupted. "Ginny, unless you want to look like a mountain troll, I suggest you sit still!" Ginny gave a defeated sigh, rolled her eyes towards the heavens, and crossed her arms as the scissors continued to attack her head. "Hermione is doing some shopping for me Harry." Mrs. Weasley continued, "I have to replace all the food that we used for Ron and Hermione's party last night."

"She went alone?" Harry asked, somewhat shocked.

"Of course not dear. Kingsley Shacklebolt went with her. I don't mean to be rude dear but perhaps-"

"Of course not Mrs. Weasley." Harry cut her off, "You're very busy and I'm in the way. I'll just go upstairs and read for awhile."

"Thank you dear and I am sorry things are so crazy around here today."

Seeing as how he could not possibly be missed, Harry reckoned this would be the perfect time to pay a visit to professor Lupin. Harry had wanted to speak with him about Tonks for days. He ran upstairs, left a hastily scrawled note for Ron, and grabbed his invisibility cloak. He was going to floo to professor Lupin's completely unannounced (which Harry realized was extremely rude, but he was fairly certain that any request for a meeting would be denied), and didn't want to get hexed the minute he stepped out of the fireplace.

Harry threw the cloak over his body and came back downstairs. He probably didn't even need the cloak while still at the Burrow; everyone was way too busy to take notice of him. Making his way to the sitting room, he threw some floo powder into the fireplace and stepped across the mantle. When he stepped out on the other side of the connection, it hit him just how small and poverty stricken professor Lupin's house was. Harry realized that professor Lupin probably had not had a proper job since leaving his DADA post in Harry's third year, and Harry doubted that working for the Order paid very well if at all. If Lupin agreed to teach them Occlumency, Harry would make sure he was paid for his time. The sitting room was only slightly larger than Ron's bedroom. A threadbare sofa sat in the middle of the room. In front of it was a coffee table that was of dubious sturdiness. Despite the meager possessions in the room however, Harry noticed that professor Lupin had done his very best to make it feel very homey and comfortable.

He removed his invisibility cloak and walked down a short narrow hallway towards what must be the kitchen. There were two doors off of the middle of the hallway. One was open, revealing the bathroom. The other was closed. "_Must be the bedroom." _Harry thought to himself. "Professor Lupin?" he called out, knocking gently on the bedroom door. "Professor Lupin, it's Harry, are you home?" There was no answer. The hallway opened up into the kitchen which was smaller than the sitting room, containing a table that could probably fit four people, although somewhat uncomfortably, and wizarding appliances that looked older than Nicholas Flamel. "Professor Lupin?" Harry called again, to no avail. A door off the kitchen led outside. "_Maybe he's in the garden."_

The sight that greeted Harry as he stepped into the garden almost knocked the wind out of him. Professor Lupin was lying on the ground motionless by a mound of earth that must have been Tonks' unmarked grave. At least a dozen Dementors were hovering above him. "No!" Harry screamed, "Get off of him! Expecto Patronum!" A brilliant white stag erupted from Harry's wand and charged towards the foul specters, driving three of them away almost instantly. The others turned towards him and began to advance. Harry directed Prongs towards the advancing Dementors, and catching two of them unawares sent them flying off, howling demonically.

There were still seven of them left and they were quickly gaining ground on Harry. Prongs had dissipated after dispatching the last two Dementors, and so again, Harry screamed "Expecto Patronum!" Once again, the brilliant stag flew forward from his wand, impaling another two Dementors on his antlers, sending them flying away screaming. Harry directed Prongs towards the remaining Dementors just as they reached him. Prongs was able to take care of two more of them before vanishing once again.

The remaining three Dementors greedily bore down upon Harry. Slimy, rotted hands reached for him as he fell to the ground. He tried to cast a Patronus, but his voice sounded as if it were a million miles away. _"Think Harry, think of Ginny!"_, but try as he might, his thoughts were taken over by the sound of high pitched laughter and his mother's screams. "Expect... expectuhhh..." Harry knew he was about to black out as his knees gave way and he fell to the ground. One of the Dementors floating above him opened it's mouth and began to lower it's head towards Harry. "No... No... Want to see Sirius again..." Harry moaned weakly as he tried to turn his head towards the earth.

Harry's eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his body went into grand mal seizure as the Dementor's lips came within an inch of his. Suddenly there was a blinding white light. The last thing Harry saw before he passed out was a brilliant white wolf savagely tearing into the remaining Dementors.

When Harry awoke, still lying on the ground in professor Lupin's garden, it was almost dark. Professor Lupin was lying completely motionless at the other end of the garden, his wand still pointed in Harry's direction. With great effort, Harry managed to heave himself into a standing position. He felt very weak and was freezing cold. _"Please be alive."_ Harry thought to himself as he stumbled towards Lupin. Harry dropped to his knees and felt for a pulse. Lupin was alive, but Harry's attempts at waking him were fruitless. They had to get out of here, but Harry was in no condition to carry Lupin anywhere, and he couldn't apparate while in the confines of Lupin's property. "Dobby!" Harry called weakly. A second later, the house elf appeared with a pop.

"Master Potter! What has happened to master Potter?" Dobby squeaked.

"Dementors," Harry croaked, "get us out of here... need chocolate." Dobby took hold of Harry and professor Lupin, and when Harry opened his eyes again, they were inside the Shrieking Shack. Professor McGonagall hadn't been exaggerating. Dobby had completely renovated it to the point where it looked as if it had just been built. There were two matching leather sofas that looked incredibly plush. There were exquisite wall hangings covering the boarded up windows, and the intricately carved parquet floor had been brightly polished. Dobby immediately levitated both Harry and Lupin to separate leather sofas in the sitting room that were as comfortable as they looked, disappeared, and reappeared a few seconds later with two massive blocks of Honeydukes chocolate.

"Harry Potter needs to eat." Dobby said, handing Harry a large block of bittersweet chocolate. Harry bit down into it and warmth immediately spread over his entire body. "He'll wake up, won't he?" Harry asked, the minute he was done chewing, already beginning to feel some strength return to his body. "Dobby will take care of professor Loopy. Harry Potter is to be eating and resting now." Harry almost laughed at the sternness in Dobby's voice. Perhaps the house elf had taken to spending time with Madam Pomfrey.

A few minutes later, Dobby was able to wake Lupin and began practically force feeding him chocolate. "Harry," Lupin said when he was lucid enough to speak, "I didn't think I was going to make it. If you hadn't shown up when you did -" Lupin was silent for a moment as he looked around at his surroundings. "Where are we? This place seems oddly familiar but-"

"It's your old stomping grounds." Harry replied, "Welcome to the Shrieking Shack." Lupin looked around the grand sitting room in awe, taking it all in. Finally, he let out a low whistle and nodded. "I like what you've done with the place." Harry looked at Dobby as he answered. "We worked with a good decorator." Lupin looked at Dobby with a smile. "Your decorator has very good taste in housewares and furnishings." Dobby turned slightly pink before reprimanding them. "Harry Potter and professor Loopy need to be eating and resting. They do not need to be talking now. They need to get their strength back," the house elf stated, while wagging his finger at them.

A sudden thought hit Harry. "Dobby, the Weasley's will be wondering where I've gotten to. Can you go to the Burrow and tell them that I'm okay, and that I'll be staying with professor Lupin this evening, and that I'll see them tomorrow? And don't tell them about the Dementors okay? Just tell them I'm with professor Lupin and that I'm fine."

"Of course Dobby will go to the Wheezys, but Harry Potter must promise Dobby to be eating and resting while Dobby is gone."

"I promise Dobby, no more talking, and thank you for everything today. You probably saved our lives."

"Dobby is always happy to be helping Harry Potter and his friends. Dobby will be going to the Wheezys at once." and with a faint pop, the house elf was gone.

Harry and Lupin ate quietly for a while as the chocolate worked it's special brand of magic. Finally, it was Lupin who broke the silence. "Why did you come to see me today?"

"I wanted to talk to you... umm... about..."

"About Nymphadora," Lupin finished.

Harry felt his stomach ball up into a fist as he searched for words that could relate how sorry he felt about Tonks' death. Lupin spoke before Harry had a chance.

"It's not your fault Harry. You didn't ask her to do what she did. You can't blame yourself."

"It feels like it's my fault. It all feels like it's my fault."

"Harry, did you ask Voldemort to give you that scar? Did you ask him to kill James and Lily?"

"No, but – "

"But nothing," Lupin interrupted, "you didn't ask for this Harry, none of us did. This is Voldemort's fault, not yours."

"Hermione said the same thing."

"And Hermione is, as usual, right. She is exceptionally bright Harry, and if she says something, you should listen."

"Professor – "

A warmth emanated from Lupin's eyes that almost made Harry forget the man was suffering. "Please call me Remus Harry, I haven't been your professor for three years."

"Fine," Harry smiled briefly before becoming serious, "Remus, I've been hearing rumors that you are planning to go back underground."

Lupin looked down at the floor, avoiding Harry's gaze. "The Order needs a liaison for the werewolves. I'm really the only person for the job."

"The werewolves are going to side with Voldemort, and you know it," Harry spat, in spite of himself, "you are much more useful to the Order here."

"Doing what Harry? Pacing around Grimauld place like a caged lion?" Harry tightened up at the mention of his godfather, and Lupin softened his tone. "The Ministry knows I'm a werewolf. The Order needs to operate in secrecy. The only thing I can do for the Order is to try to get the werewolves to listen to reason."

"Which they won't. The only thing the werewolves are going to do is rip you limb from limb." Harry took a deep breath before allowing himself to speak further, "I'm not going to let you commit suicide Remus, not after everything you've done for me."

Lupin looked up from the floor and his sad empty eyes locked with Harry's. "It's not your choice to make."

"Remus, I need you here. I need your help. Going off to get yourself killed is only going to delay me in doing what I have to do."

Lines of sorrow etched themselves into Lupin's face as he answered. "You won't even tell me what you're doing Harry, how can I possibly help you? You won't give me the real reason why Tonks did what she did. You know why she did it, don't you?"

Harry was silent for a long time. He always knew that it would be very tempting to break his word to Dumbledore at some point. He didn't want to break his word, but he didn't want Remus to die either. More than that, Remus had a right to know why Tonks had died. "I think so, but I'm not sure. Remus," Harry began, "what do you know about Horcruxes?"

Lupin's mouth dropped open very slowly as he stared at Harry. "He's made one?" he whispered, "Voldemort's made one?"

After a moment, Harry replied. "Six... actually." Remus let out a hiss of shock and revulsion before Harry continued, "Two of them have been destroyed; one by Dumbledore and one by me."

"But how?" Lupin countered, "How did you destroy a Horcrux?"

" It was the year before you came to teach at Hogwarts. I didn't even know what it was until years later, and to answer your question, I destroyed it with a Basilisk fang. It was a diary – Voldemorts diary when he was still at Hogwarts. I plunged the fang into the book and that was it, it was done for. I have a feeling I'm not going to be so lucky with the rest. I have to hunt down and destroy four more of them. Only then will anyone be able to kill Voldemort for good."

"I think Tonks knew." Harry continued, "I think Dumbledore let her in on it sometime before the start of last term. I think he knew he was going to die sooner rather than later, and charged her to be my protector as he had been. I think she sacrificed herself so that I could hunt the damned things down without Voldemort catching on to what I was doing, but in order to do that successfully, in order for Tonks to not have died in vain, I need to learn Occlumency. You can teach me; you're the best teacher I've ever had."

"What makes you think that Dumbledore knew he was going to die?"

Harry considered Lupin's question for a minute before he continued. "Professor McGonagall I guess. I spoke to her the other day, and she mentioned something about the last time she saw Dumbledore; that he sounded as if he was saying goodbye to her... or something like that. Anyway, when she said it, it brought up things in me that had been bubbling under the surface. I realized that I had gotten the same feeling from him last term, but that I couldn't... or wouldn't address it consciously. His hand, whatever happened to his hand when he destroyed that ring, I think it was slowly killing him."

"There are better Occlumens than me in the Order Harry: Moody, Kingsley – "

"But they aren't better teachers than you." Harry interjected, "and besides, I don't trust them Remus; I trust you. Whoever my teacher is, they will be rooting around inside my head, and will have access to all sorts of information. Please consider what I'm asking you. You are the only person that I trust inside my head. You are the only person I trust to teach me Occlumency."

The two of them remained completely silent for some time as Lupin considered Harry's offer. Finally, Lupin spoke. "There will have to be certain conditions..."

Harry's heart leapt with hope. "You'll do it then?" he asked, beaming from ear to ear.

"You realize that for seven out of every twenty-eight days I will be out of commission. I will have to leave three days before the full moon, and I will not return until three days later."

"But Wolfsbane potion... Slughorn could make it – "

"No," Lupin countered, "that is another condition. As far as anyone is to know, I have gone back underground. It is far too dangerous for anyone to question what I am up to."

Harry thought for a second, then almost as if talking to himself said, "Maybe I could make it."

Lupin stifled a laugh. "I'm sorry Harry, I don't mean to laugh at you, but Wolfsbane is a highly advanced potion, even for an expert potions master. If I remember correctly, potions was hardly your best subject."

"There's a book." Harry hated the idea that it was Snape's book, but if it could help him now, he knew it would be foolish not to use it. "I was given a secondhand textbook last year. Turns out it was Snape's when he was a student. When I followed the annotations he made to the original instructions, the results were brilliant. Slughorn was so thrilled with my work I thought he was going to ask me to marry him. It's hidden inside Hogwarts; I'll have to retrieve it."

Lupin looked dubious at best. "We'll have a look at this book. If it looks promising, maybe we'll try it. But if not, I will be gone for seven days out of every twenty-eight."

"Fine. Now, I have some conditions of my own." Lupin raised his eyebrows in amusement. "And those conditions would be?"

"One: You will receive a stipend – "

"Absolutely not," Lupin countered, "we have made this deal as friends who care for one another. I will not take payment to teach you Occlumency."

"I'm not asking you to," Harry replied, "however, also teaching Ginny, Ron and Hermione was not part of our deal. You will be teaching all four of us, and you will be paid to teach your three other students."

Lupin looked uncomfortable at this proposition. "Fine," he sighed, "One galleon per month – "

"Ten galleons per week, per student," Harry added, "not counting me of course."

"Harry – "

"You are not a house elf Remus. Thirty galleons per week."

"Twenty."

Harry could have sworn he the hint of a smirk on Lupin's face. Was Lupin actually having fun with him? "Fine, but that brings me to my second condition."

"Which is?"

"You stay here in the Shrieking Shack. I don't want you going home and being targeted by Dementors again. So the deal then is twenty galleons a week plus room and board."

"Okay, but I'm not taking anyone's bedroom; I can kip on the couch, and I receive no payment for any 'vacation time' I need to take."

"You've got a deal," Harry sighed with exasperation. Lupin was chuckling at Harry's consternation when he suddenly stopped, desperately trying to stifle the belly laughs that were shaking his body. Harry looked around; there was Dobby doing his best professor McGonagall impression. Both hands were on his hips as he tapped his right foot impatiently. "Harry Potter promised Dobby there would be no more talking," he said sternly, taking one hand off of his hip so that he could wag his finger at them. Then Dobby snapped his fingers, extinguishing the lights. "Harry Potter and professor Loopy will be resting now," he said in the darkness, "Dobby will come back to check, and if he hears talking, Dobby will be very cross."

Harry and Lupin were in stitches at the sight of Dobby playing the role of angry schoolmarm, but dared not laugh until he had left the room. When they finally heard a light pop sound in the darkness, they giggled themselves to sleep.

OOOOOOOOOOO

The next morning, Harry awoke to the sound of snoring. The Dementor attack had taken a lot more out of Lupin than the man had let on. Harry supposed that it was natural; the older you were, the longer it took you to recover. He quietly got up and stretched, and it was then that the aroma of eggs, bacon, sausages, kippers, and freshly baked bread tickled his nose. Following the pleasing aroma, he made his way to the kitchen where he found steaming platters of food, hot tea, and ice-cold pumpkin juice awaiting him. It was only then that Harry realized that he was ravenously hungry; the Dementor attack had depleted his energy as well. He plopped down on a chair and began to shovel piles of food onto his plate. _"I could kiss you Dobby,"_ Harry thought, as he greedily ate everything he could get his hands on. When he was finally full, he decided it might be a good idea to retrieve his potions book. If they were going to attempt to make a Wolfsbane potion for profess – for Remus (that was going to take getting used to), they should start immediately.

Donning his invisibility cloak and scrawling a quick note telling Remus where he had gone, he stepped into the fireplace and quickly reappeared in the common room of the Head Boy and Girl's dormitory. It was quite an impressive structure made of stone and hardwood. The vaulted ceiling was at least thirty feet high, and like the ceiling in the Great Hall, was charmed to mimic the sky outside. There was an enormous bookcase between the two spiral staircases leading up to the bedrooms containing thousands of books and reference materials. A giant silver plaque engraved with the names of every Head Boy and Girl in Hogwarts history completely covered the opposite wall. Harry found Percy's name rather easily; he had been Head Boy only four years previously. The names stretched all the way up to the ceiling. His father's name was too high up for him to see; he would have to come back later with his broom.

Harry quietly opened the door leading out into the main building. The teachers would not be here yet, but he didn't want to alert any of the resident spirits (especially Peeves) to his presence. Harry wasn't sure what floor of the castle he was on until he recognized the entrance to the prefect's bathrooms where he had spent some quality time with Moaning Myrtle and a rather loud egg. He made his way to the seventh floor without encountering a single spirit. _"Did ghosts go on summer holiday?" _Harry momentarily amused himself with the image of Nearly Headless Nick lounging on a beach in the south of France. He stopped in front of the blank patch of wall in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Closing his eyes he thought, "_I need to retrieve my potions book."_ He walked back and forth three times, and when he opened his eyes, the wall was still just a wall.

Harry stared at the wall, furrowing his brow. _"Okay, that was obviously not the right way to state what I need. What would Hermione do if she were here?"_ Harry thought about it for another moment, and then it hit him. _"The book doesn't belong to me." _Closing his eyes again, he paced back and forth in front of the blank stretch of wall. "_I need to retrieve Severus Snape's potions textbook."_ When Harry opened his eyes for the second time, a large wooden door greeted him. He quickly slipped through it into the gigantic, cathedral-like room where he had hidden the book last term.

Harry stood rooted to the spot for a full five minutes simply taking it all in. The enormity of the room and its contents were simply overwhelming. Harry thought that he would have loved to spend months here, excavating the hidden treasures that probably lay hidden amongst mountains of broken furniture, Fanged Frisbees, and muggle girly magazines. _"It could take hours to find that book. Well, I'd better get started then."_ Harry peered down each of the many alleyways in turn, looking for the enormous stuffed troll that marked where he had made a right turn down another passage. He found it after a moment and started forward. He turned right at the troll, and proceeded down the alleyway keeping an eye out for the cabinet where he had hung a left.

He was surrounded on either side by walls of broken furniture, self correcting quills, foul looking potions, thousands of books (some of them with hideous titles like _'Harmful Hexes', 'Vengeful Spells for the Downtrodden', and 'The Ritual Suicide'_), skeletons of unidentifiable creatures, cloaks, hats, and jewels. Harry had been walking for some time when the passage came to a dead end. Was it possible that he had missed the cabinet where he had turned? Retracing his steps, Harry went back the way he had come, keeping a sharp eye out for the cabinet. There were many passages leading off the one he was on, but there wasn't a cabinet at the beginning of any of them. When he reached the front of the room, it dawned on him. "_I am an idiot!"_ Of course the cabinet wasn't there! Draco had used it last term to sneak death Eaters into Hogwarts. Harry had no doubt that one of professor McGonagall's first actions as headmistress was to have it removed from the grounds.

Harry once again went back into the passage. He would have to try each passage leading off from the left until he found the bust he had placed on the cupboard where the book was hidden. Harry remembered that he had gone a fair distance when he had made the turn, so it wouldn't be one of the first passages leading off, nor would it be at the very end since he had not noticed a dead end the last time. He decided to go all the way to the end, walk until he could no longer see the dead end, and work his way back towards the front of the room.

Two hours and five passageways later, Harry finally saw the bust of the ugly wizard wearing a wig and a tarnished tiara. He hurried towards it, and opening the cupboard door, retrieved Snape's potions book from behind the cage where he had placed it. He took the journey back at a full run, hoping that Remus would not be too worried about where he had gotten. Harry was about to leave when a thought occurred to him. How could he find this room again? Did this particular room appear whenever you needed to hide something, or did a certain set of conditions need to be met? Would it only appear if you needed to hide something that would get you detention or expelled? Could he return with Snape's book claiming that he needed to hide it again? It didn't matter; the only thing he had on him worth hiding was his father's cloak, and he wasn't going to roam Hogwarts without it. He'd simply have to hope for the best if he ever needed to come back here.

"Harry, where have you been?" Lupin asked as Harry appeared in the fireplace, "You've been gone nearly three hours."

"Sorry Remus, I hid this thing better than I remembered; it took me awhile to find it again."

Harry handed the potions book to Lupin, and sat next to him on the sofa. As Lupin perused the book, Harry could have sworn that he saw a questioning look come over his features, but in a flash, it was gone.

"Something wrong Remus?"

Lupin seemed to snap out of a daze. "Hmm? No, nothing's wrong. You said that this was Snape's textbook?"

"Yeah, why?"

"It's fifty years old, much older than Snape."

"We think it was his mums."

"Well Harry," Lupin said while idly flipping through the pages, "when this book was written, Wolfsbane potion hadn't been invented yet. I highly doubt it will be in here."

"Snape could have written it in," Harry replied, "there are spells in there that he invented. Maybe he wrote the potion instructions down in there as well."

"Worth a look, I suppose, but I wouldn't get my hopes up."

Harry and Lupin silently went through the book from cover to cover, looking for anywhere that Snape might have written down the instructions for the Wolfsbane potion. Occasionally, when they came across something interesting, Lupin would grunt, or let out an unconscious "Hmm." At one point, he muttered, "Fascinating what he did with Felix Felicis. Probably still a horror to brew though – takes forever too." Something began to gnaw at Harry. Something that had to do with what Lupin had just said, but he couldn't figure out what was bothering him. When they found the page that contained the Levicorpus spell, Lupin's voice derailed his thoughts. "I remember that one; very popular back when I was a student."

Harry did not join Lupin in his mirth. The Death Eaters used this spell on that poor Muggle family at the Quidditch World Cup. It wouldn't have surprised Harry if Snape were the one who had actually cast it that night. It was also the spell his own father had used on Snape when they were at school together. A sudden thought hit Harry. "Remus?"

"Yes?"

"How would this spell have been so popular? It's a nonverbal spell. How could anyone else use it if they couldn't hear the incantation?"

"These things have a way of getting around Harry. One person tells another, who tells two more..."

Harry felt his stomach knotting up. "My aunt gave me a picture of me as a baby. I'm at Godric's Hollow and my parents are there. This book is lying open on a table. If it was Snape's book, how did my father end up with it? He didn't... he wouldn't... "

"Harry," Lupin interrupted, "James wasn't perfect, but I can tell you with absolute authority that he was not a thief. There is any number of ways this book could have ended up with him. It ended up in your possession without you stealing it yes?"

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Of course, Remus was right. There was any number of ways that his father could have ended up with that book. Harry had never quite recovered from seeing his father bully Snape. Until that moment, he had thought that his father was perfect and noble in every way. It had been a shock to discover that his father was a human being with flaws like everyone else.

They flipped through the remainder of the book, but were unable to find any mention of a Wolfsbane potion. On one of the last few pages however, Harry noticed something he had never seen before. It was another spell that Snape had written into one of the margins. '_Usurpocorpus – nvbl.'_ Harry pointed it out to Lupin. "Do you recognize that one?"

"I've never seen it before Harry. I have no idea what it does, and judging from some of the other spells in this book, I think it might be dangerous to try it out.."

Harry wholeheartedly agreed. The last thing he wanted to do was rip Lupin to shreds as he had done with Draco. He couldn't help feeling disappointed. He had hoped that Snape would have written down instructions for the Wolfsbane potion. This meant that Lupin would be gone every month, and more importantly, he would be suffering. Lupin, seemingly reading Harry's mind, brought him out of his reverie. "Harry, I have lived with this condition for almost thirty years. It is not the end of the world. I'll be fine. I'll make sure that I structure the lessons in such a way that the four of you will be able to make progress in my absence." This seemed to cheer Harry up slightly, and he allowed himself a small smile. "Now," Lupin stated, "it is probably time for you to return to The Burrow. I'm sure the Weasleys will be wondering where you are. Please Harry, for everyone's sake, you are to tell them that you tried to talk me out of rejoining the werewolves and that I refused. No one but the four of you should know that I am here."

Harry donned his cloak, retrieved the potions book from the table, and was about to step into the fireplace when Lupin called out to him. "Harry, wait." Harry slipped the cloak off his head so that Lupin could see him.

"What is it?"

"Do you mind leaving that book here with me?"

"No, of course not," Harry replied, handing the book back.

"Okay then. You'd better get going. I'll see you soon."

"See you soon Remus, and thanks for everything." With those words, Harry stepped across the mantle and was gone.


	11. Fleur's Wedding and a Horcrux

Harry and Hermione spent the week before the wedding holed up in Ron's room with '_A Practical Guide to the Ancient Arte of Occlumency'_. Ron and Ginny had been too busy to join them; the Delacours had put up most of the money for the wedding, which meant the Weasleys were doing most of the work. Both Ron and Ginny were awakened by Mrs. Weasley at dawn, and were so exhausted that they went to sleep right after dinner. Harry and Hermione had offered to help, but Mrs. Weasley would only let them prepare lunch.

Harry had to admit, the garden looked incredible. To the left of the gigantic tent that resembled a medieval French castle, there was a patch of raspberry and strawberry bushes with a dark chocolate river running through the center. To the right of the tent was a gazebo surrounded by a rose garden. Dotted around the property were koi ponds full of brightly colored fish, flower gardens with every species you could imagine, and fountains of water, wine, and the finest brandy. It was the most extravagant thing Harry had ever seen in his life. If he and Ginny ever married, he hoped she would go in for something a little... simpler.

Unfortunately, '_A Practical Guide to the Ancient Arte of Occlumency' _had recommended that during the first week of study, the student should dedicate him or herself almost completely to learning how to relax and let go of their thoughts. Part of this relaxation technique required the student to remove themselves from as much stimuli as possible. Both Harry and Hermione had found this to be incredibly difficult, as that meant they could not use the pensieve, read the paper, or even talk about what lay ahead of them. As a result, they spent most of the daytime hours in Ron's room with a silencing charm placed on the door. At night, they would go sit by the lake with their eyes closed, simply taking in the sounds of the night for hours at a time.

The first few days of this were, well... boring as hell, actually. The book had instructed them to close their eyes and breathe, count each breath from one to ten, and then start over. If any random thoughts came into their head, they were to acknowledge them, and then release them. Harry and Hermione did this for thirty-minute stretches followed by a thirty-minute rest period. Boring as it was, they promised each other to remain disciplined and practiced for eight hours a day. At first, Harry couldn't stop the random thoughts and internal dialogue that kept popping up. After a while however, the thoughts became less frequent, and when the sessions were over, he found that everything seemed more intense; colors seemed brighter, and his senses of smell and hearing seemed sharper.

On the night before the wedding, he and Hermione were sitting by the lake meditating. They had increased their practice sessions to an hour at a time. When the alarm on Hermione's wristwatch went off, signaling the end of their session, Harry slowly opened his eyes. What he saw made him want to laugh, and cry, and sing, and shout all at once. His body began to quiver, as his face seemed to tighten up.

"What is it Harry? What's wrong?" Hermione asked, looking concerned.

"It's," Harry shivered as tears welled up in his eyes.

"What is it Harry? Tell me."

"It's so beautiful," he gasped, tears running down his cheeks, "you are so beautiful."

"Harry, are you all right?"

Harry couldn't find the words to describe to her what he was seeing. The only way he could put it was "life". The entire Weasley garden was radiating life. The grass, trees and flowers had an almost electrical energy pulsing from them. Hermione had an orange glow that radiated out from her body. It was as if he could see her life force, her soul. It was the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen in his life, and it's power was overwhelming. Everything, every tree, every flower, every blade of grass had it's own energy, it's own light emanating from it that pulsed with its life force.

As he described what he was seeing, Hermione began to laugh with happiness, tears running down her cheeks. The most amazing thing happened when she did this; the orange glow that surrounded her grew in size and intensity, reaching towards Harry until he was engulfed in it's warmth. He was beginning to understand what Dumbledore had meant about the power of love. He had always intellectually understood it of course, but now he could feel it, and the difference was astounding.

Harry went to bed that night absolutely exhausted, and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Almost as soon as he was asleep, Harry found himself in a yawning, pitch-black space that was as quiet as the grave. Harry couldn't say why, but he knew that he had to get out of this place, that he didn't belong here. There was a door behind him, giving off a faint light. Harry tried to open it, but it was locked. Far away, maybe even blocks away, he could see another faintly glowing door. "Lumos." The light from his wand was almost completely engulfed by the darkness that surrounded him, so that he could only see a foot or two in front of him. Harry began to cautiously make his way toward the far door, hoping that unlike the door behind him, he would be able to get through.

He was about halfway towards the door, when the silence in the giant black space was broken by the sound of someone gently sobbing. "Hello?" he called into the darkness, "Is someone there? Are you all right?" Whoever it was did not answer him. Harry stopped and listened for a moment so that he might trace the direction from which it was coming. He veered to the right, and after walking in the dark for several minutes, the noise became more distinct.. "Hello?" he tried again, "I won't hurt you. Do you need help?" The person continued to cry, but did not answer. The sound grew closer as he walked in its direction, and just as he felt that he must be very near whoever it was, he tripped, landing face first on the floor. Except there wasn't a floor exactly, just solid blackness.

Harry, still on the ground, quickly turned, pointing the light from his wand behind him. He had tripped right over the weeping person. It was a man dressed in blue robes, lying on his stomach, crying into his arms, which were cradling his head. Long silver hair covered the sides of his face. "Are you okay?" Harry asked again, "What happened?". Albus Dumbledore looked up at him, his eyes almost swollen shut with tears, his body convulsing. A wave of alarm shot through Harry. "Sir! Are you okay? What happened?" he asked in horror. This was not the Albus Dumbledore that Harry had known for the last six years. Gone, was the twinkle from his eyes, and the quiet calm power he had always exuded in life. The headmaster looked broken and weak. "Sir, who did this to you?" Dumbledore attempted to answer, but the words got stuck in his throat as he began to sob anew. With Harry's help, he managed to slowly heave himself into a sitting position. Too weakened to maintain it, his body weight fell upon Harry, who struggled to keep him upright. Dumbledore was muttering into Harry's robes in between sobs, but Harry couldn't understand what he was saying. "What is it sir? I can't understand you. Who did this to you?"

Dumbledore used the remainder of his strength to lift his head off of Harry's collarbone. "Please forgive me Harry." he choked through fresh sobs, "I'm so sorry... please forgive me... all my fault... I'm so sorry... so sorry..."

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. "It's not your fault sir. You protected me. You helped me. All these years, you were my friend." Dumbledore's grief seemed to grow with Harry's words.

"No! It's all my fault! Please forgive me!" Dumbledore had grabbed onto Harry's robe for dear life, his eyes wild with desperation.

Harry, confused and afraid, stuttered, "Okay, okay I forgive you sir. I forgive you. It's – it's okay."

Harry awoke in a pool of sweat and immediately threw the oppressive covers off. Had the lights been on, he would have noticed a single phoenix feather fall off of the comforter and gently float down to the floor, landing under his bed. "_What the hell was all that about?"_ Harry had been angry with Dumbledore in the past, but he knew that Dumbledore had always tried to protect him. Even if Harry didn't always agree with his methods, Dumbledore had always had his best interests at heart. Harry started to wonder if deep down inside he blamed Dumbledore for everything that had happened. He didn't think he did, but if not, then what the hell was that dream supposed to mean?

Harry laid back on his pillow, pondering what he had just seen inside his minds eye. Maybe it was the meditation that had brought this strange dream on. After a few moments, his thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Weasley, who came barging in the room to begin her daily battle of trying to get Ron out of bed. With a flick of her wand, the covers flew off of Ron's bed as one of his pillows began repeatedly thumping him on the head.

"Ronald! Ronald Weasley, you wake up this instant!"

Ron let out a groan. "Kay... okay... I'm up... I'm up."

"Get dressed and get yourself downstairs. There is still a lot of work to be done."

"Geroff," Ron moaned, blindly swatting at the pillow that was beating him about the head, "Okay mum I'm up. Get that bloody pillow away from me."

Mrs. Weasley, seemingly satisfied with his response, flicked her wand, and the pillow fell to the bed, motionless. "In five minutes time Ronald, I want you downstairs polishing auntie Muriel's tiara," then looking over at Harry said, "sorry to disturb you Harry. Things will be back to normal after today."

"That's okay Mrs. Weasley," Harry chuckled, "I rather enjoyed watching that."

Ron shot a bleary-eyed glare at his best friend as he dragged himself out of bed. After Mrs. Weasley had left the room, Ron muttered to himself, "If that's all the respect you get around here for being head boy, I wouldn't have bothered. Polishing a stupid tiara for Fleur. I can just hear mum now. 'You're rubbing too hard Ronald! Be careful, that's a goblin made tiara, it's a replica of Ravenclaw's!' She's going to drive me spare."

"She'll calm down after today Ron. She's just nervous."

"What are your plans for today? You going to stick around?"

"For a bit. Thought I would watch the wedding ceremony from under my cloak, then maybe check up on profess- I mean, Remus."

"I'm sorry you can't be there mate. Bill's sorry too. The whole family wants you there. We hate it that you're stuck up in this room like you were back with your aunt and uncle."

"I know, and I appreciate it. Once this is all over, there'll be a lot more weddings we can celebrate together," Harry said, looking off into the distance. Then, he smiled dreamily. "I can't wait for that day mate."

Ron gave him a slightly odd look. Harry turned to him, and looking him straight in the eyes, said, "As soon as this is over, I'm asking Ginny to marry me, and if she says yes, I want you to be my best man."

Ron turned slightly pink as his mouth repeatedly opened and closed. "Um, sure mate, of... of course... Does... does Ginny... I mean..."

"I've behaved selfishly Ron. I see that now. I need to have a long talk with Ginny. Once this wedding business is done with, and we have some time to talk-"

Harry was cut off by the voice of Mrs. Weasley. "Ronald Bilious Weasley! If I have to come up those stairs-"

"I'm coming mum! For Merlin's sake! Sorry Harry, later?"

"Yeah mate, I'll talk to you later."

Aside from a quick trip downstairs for breakfast, Harry spent the remainder of the morning in Ron's bedroom meditating in an attempt to relive what he had experienced the previous evening. Much to his chagrin, he found that no matter how hard he concentrated, everything still looked, well, normal. The grass, the trees, everything looked like it normally did, with none of the vibrancy he had experienced the night before. Was it because he was looking at everything through Ron's bedroom window? Or did the invisibility cloak somehow block the energy? Perhaps you could only see the energy at night. Guests were beginning to arrive, so opening the window and removing his cloak were no longer options. Tired and frustrated, Harry laid on Ron's bed (Ron's pillows were more comfortable), picked up a copy of "_Quidditch Through The Ages_", and began leafing through it as he waited for the ceremony to begin.

While in the middle of reading about the long, illustrious history of the Wimbourne Wasps, Harry heard the sound of footfall on the stairs. Harry silently closed the book, and tensed up, making sure he was completely covered by the cloak. It was probably one of the Weasley's, but Harry wanted to make sure he wasn't seen by the wrong person. Harry aimed his wand and tensed as the doorknob turned. The door cracked open, and Ginny slipped inside quickly closing the door silently behind her. "Harry," she whispered.

Harry let out a sigh of relief, and cast a silencing charm on the door. "I'm here Ginny." Harry allowed a foot to stick out from under the cloak so she could see it. Before he could react, Ginny went straight for his foot, and lifting the cloak off of it, slid underneath it with him.

"Harry, I'm sorry. I should have been more understanding. I should have realized-" She was pressed up against him, and Harry suddenly found that it was very difficult to breathe.

"Ginny, what are you talking about? I'm the one who has been acting like an idiot. This is entirely my fault. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me. I pushed you away. I love you Ginny and I'm sorry. I behaved like a git. I only hope you can forgive me. I never meant to hurt you like that. I thought I was protecting you, and I was, but I was also protecting myself. I realize that now, and I'm sorry. I love you Ginny. I'm in love with you, and however much time I have left on this earth, I want to spend it with you. Do you forgive me?"

Ginny slid her arms around his waist, as her moist, chocolate brown eyes gazed up into his. "I do. I love you Harry. I'm in love with you, and however much time I have left on this earth, I want to spend it with you. Do you forgive me?"

Harry moved his lips to within a whisper of hers, and just before their lips met, answered, "I do."

Harry closed his eyes and allowed himself to melt into her, to give in to her completely; her every kiss sending his spirit soaring. Right then, he didn't care about Horcruxes, or Snape, or Voldemort. His entire soul had been enveloped by her. It was only when she drew a sharp breath and jerked back that he opened his eyes. "Ginny what's-" Harry didn't need to finish the question. Ginny was gazing in wonder, hypnotized by the deep red pulsing light that was emanating from them, filling the entire room.

"Harry, what's happening? What is it?"

Harry gently took her head in his hands, and smiled as he gazed into her eyes. "It's us Ginny. It's our... life force maybe? I don't know exactly what it is, but I know it's beautiful, and I know it's nothing to be afraid of."

"You've seen this before?"

"Last night, for the first time. Hermione and I were out by the lake meditating. When I opened my eyes, that was the first time I saw it. It was everywhere, the trees, the grass. Hermione and I both had it, but it wasn't this big, or bright."

"It's so beautiful Harry." Ginny whispered, kissing him softly.

"That's because it's us." Harry whispered back, gently rubbing his nose on hers.

The spell was broken by the sound of Mrs. Weasley's voice coming from downstairs. "Where has that girl gotten to? Ginerva Weasley!" Ginny's eyes widened. Neither of them had any idea how long they had been under the cloak together. The pulsing red light shrunk down until it was a barely visible line, outlining their bodies.

"You'd better get back down there."

"Ginny! Where are you?"

Ginny gave Harry another quick kiss. "Gotta go, I love you."

"I love you too Gin."

Ginny slid quietly out the door. Before she shut it, Harry heard her cry down the stairs, "Can't a girl use the loo in this house? For Merlin's sake mum!"

The ceremony was beautiful, at least the parts of it that Harry saw. Unfortunately, he had found it incredibly difficult to keep his Omnioculars off Ginny. What an idiot he had been. Hermione had been right the whole time. He was denying himself the only true happiness he had ever had. What he had just shared with Ginny was the most incredible thing he had ever experienced.

Moving the Omnioculars across the Weasley garden, Harry saw that Scrimgeour and Fudge were both in attendance, along with what seemed like most of the Ministry. Even that cow Umbridge had shown up. There were other men, Harry noted, who were dressed like guests, but seemed to keep to the perimeter of the area, and didn't seem to want to socialize with anyone. "_Aurors? Hit Wizards_?" Either way, Harry was positive that they weren't there to enjoy the festivities. They were there because the Ministry expected an attack. _"If there is an attack, then so much for keeping up appearances. I'm not letting anyone near Ginny. If I blow my cover, then so be it."_

Luckily, Harry's worries proved to be unfounded, and the ceremony went off without a hitch. Harry zoomed in on Bill and Fleur as they exchanged vows in front of the Weasley pond, and then gently kissed. The tiara on Fleur's head reflected the sunlight right into Harry's eyes, momentarily blinding him. Harry, wincing, pulled his eyes away from the Omnioculars, blinking rapidly. Every time he closed his eyes, the afterimage of the tiara swam in the blackness before him, etching itself into his brain. Somehow, it seemed familiar to him. _"Where have I seen that tiara before?_ Harry closed his eyes, staring at the bright image of the tiara that the sun's reflection had burned into his corneas. The head of a very ugly warlock, wearing a ridiculous looking wig slowly materialized underneath it.

"_Of course! I used it to mark where I had left Snape's potions book. I guess that tiara's not as rare as Mrs. Weasley thought."_

"_Be careful Ronald,_ _that's a goblin made tiara, it's a replica of Ravenclaw's!"_

"_Four objects from the four founders would, I am sure, have exerted a powerful pull over Voldemort's imagination."_

"_Let us speak openly. Why have you come here tonight, surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want?"_

"_A job I do not want? On the contrary, Dumbledore, I want it very much."_

"_Oh, you want to come back to Hogwarts, but you do not want to teach any more than you wanted to when you were eighteen. What is it you are after, Tom? Why not try an open request for once?"_

"_Why did he come back? Did you ever find out?"_

"_I have ideas, but no more than that."_

"_What ideas sir?"_

"_I shall tell you when you when you have retrieved that memory from professor Slughorn. When you have that last piece of the jigsaw, everything will, I hope, be clear... to both of us."_

"_Merlin's beard! The thing has been right under my nose! I've held it in my hands!"_

Harry quickly scrawled a note to Ron, telling him that he had gone to see Remus, and left it at that, in case the note fell into the wrong hands. Despite telling Ron and Hermione that he would include them in the hunt, he wanted to get his hands on this one now, and there was no way to include them without completely ruining Bill and Fleur's wedding. Besides, he wouldn't be alone, Remus would be with him.

OOOOOOOOOOO

When Harry finally stepped out of the fireplace in the Shrieking Shack, he found Remus in the kitchen, feasting on never ending platters of roasted meats, whipped potatoes, crunchy vegetables, and savory desserts. Remus looked up from his food as Harry entered.

"If I had known how good the fringe benefits of this job were, I'd have taught you Occlumency years ago." When Harry didn't so much as crack a smile, Remus became alarmed. "The wedding – is everything-".

"The wedding was beautiful Remus." Harry said, plopping down into a chair, "She did, he did, everything went off perfectly."

"So why so serious?" A look of realization suddenly dawned on Remus' face. "Oh Harry, it's Ginny isn't it? Look she may need a little time-"

"Everything's fine with me and Ginny. I think I found one Remus. I think I found one of Voldemort's Horcruxes."

Remus almost choked on the piece of roast beef he had just put into his mouth. "You found... How did you find it? _Where_ did you find it? I thought you were at the Burrow all day."

"I think you mean, 'When did I find it?'. I found it last year. It's been sitting right under my nose at Hogwarts the whole time. I want to get it tonight Remus, now."

"Hold on Harry, we don't even know how to neutralize it. You even said yourself-"

"I don't want to destroy it yet, not until I'm sure of how to do it. I do want to secure it though. I want to make sure no one else can get their hands on it."

"How do we even know we can touch the thing without it killing us Harry?"

"Because I already have touched it." Harry went on to explain how he had hidden the book after using one of Snape's spells on Draco Malfoy last term, what he had heard Ron say about his aunt's tiara, and what he had seen in the pensieve with Dumbledore. After he finished, he added, "I only hope I can find it again."

"What do you mean 'find it again'?"

"It's in a special room Remus-"

"Ahh yes, the Room of Requirement. I'm sure we might be able to find some of your father's belongings up there while were at it."

"Are you ready then? I don't want to waste any more time."

Remus nodded as he choked down the last of his supper. "Harry we need to be careful and we can't be seen."

Harry nodded in agreement. "We'll have to use my father's cloak. It will be really slow going with two of us under there, but it's better than nothing." The men stepped one after the other into the fireplace, reappearing in the Head Boy and Girl's dormitory.

When Remus stepped out of the fireplace, he turned his attention to the high vaulted ceilings. "I remember visiting James and Lily here often in our seventh year. Lily, Peter and I would sit on the sofa with a copy of '_Hogwarts: a History_'. One of us would call out the name of a random Head Boy or Head Girl. Sirius and James used to fly around the common area on their brooms, trying to locate the name on that enormous plaque. Your father usually won of course, he was definitely the better flier. But Sirius wasn't beneath knocking your father off his broom, which ensured him a victory here and there."

"I was thinking about how I wished I'd had my broom the first time I saw this place," Harry replied, "I'd wanted to see my mum and dad's names, but they're too far up."

Lupin snapped out of his reminiscence. "I'm afraid that will have to wait for another day Harry. I have a feeling this is going to take a while."

Harry nodded in agreement, and stepping next to Remus, drew his cloak over the two of them. This would be slow going indeed. The cloak only covered them completely if they stayed very low to the ground. It was uncomfortable, but there was nothing to be done about it. Harry opened the door leading into the fifth floor corridor, Lupin directly behind him. They slowly creeped their way towards the staircase leading up to the sixth floor, stopping every few moments as their legs kept cramping up. When they reached the head of the stairs, a sudden reality hit them. There was no way they would both be able to ascend the staircase, and remain under the cloak, without falling backwards and killing themselves. "Any ideas?" Remus whispered.

"Yes, actually, and it's you that gave it to me back in the dormitory. We need to fly up the stairs."

"I don't own a broom Harry, and yours is in Ottery St. Catchpole. I doubt even you could cast and 'Accio' that powerful, and even if you could, it would take hours for it to get here."

"We don't need brooms, we have wands. Wand out Remus, point it at me. 'Wingardium Leviosa' on the count of three."

"We're going to levitate each other up the stairs?"

"Exactly. Ready? One, two, three." Both men whispered 'Wingardium Leviosa' at exactly the same time, and shot upwards like a bottle rocket, hitting their heads on the fifth floor ceiling. Remus let out a small grunt, as Harry winced with pain.

"Okay, that worked, sort of," Remus said, blinking rapidly, as he tried to clear the spots out of his eyes, "perhaps we were a little too enthusiastic. Here's what we'll do Harry, I'll control our up and down movement, and you control our forwards movement. Together, we should be able to guide ourselves up the stairs." Harry nodded in agreement. The two men interlocked their non-wand arms, and with a little trial and error, had reached the sixth floor landing in less than a minute.

The marble staircase leading to the seventh floor was at the other end of the corridor. Neither Harry nor Remus saw any point in crawling down the entire way when floating was so much faster (and easier on the legs). By the time they reached the mid point of the corridor, they had gotten the hang of working as a team. When they reached the stairs leading up to the seventh floor, they ascended them quite effortlessly. They guided themselves down the seventh floor corridor until they gently landed in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

"All right Remus, here's the tricky part. We're not going to both be able to pace in front of the entrance. You stay under the cloak, and I'll try to make it quick. If I'm seen, we'll just have to deal with the consequences as they come."

Remus was just about to argue that Harry should be the one to stay under the cloak, when he closed his eyes, put his head into his hand, and began to shake his head while quietly chuckling to himself. He looked up at Harry. "You, Harry James Potter, are an idiot, and I only feel comfortable saying that because I'm an even bigger one."

Harry gave him a look that said "Do you care to explain?" Remus took his wand, and tapped himself on the head while saying '_Exolvo Illusio'_. He slowly faded until he became part of the seventh floor corridor, and then slipped out from under the cloak. "The Disillusionment Charm! I didn't think of it because I didn't know how to cast it... What's your excuse Lupin?" Harry needled.

"You'll have to excuse me for not thinking of everything," came Remus' voice, "it's not every day I'm asked to hunt down a piece of Voldemort's soul on a moment's notice."

"Good to know you're level headed during a crisis." Harry teased.

"Shut it Potter," Came the reply, "how about a little less fun at my expense and a little more getting that door to appear."

Harry had always been quite fond of Remus, but in the past, he had always considered him to be a teacher, a mentor. Lately, he felt that their relationship had changed significantly. They were more like friends and equals with every passing day. "_My dad was lucky to have him,"_ he thought to himself, "_he's the best friend one could hope for."_

Remus would never replace Ron or Hermione of course, but Harry knew that was okay. Unlike Sirius, Remus never expected him to take James' place. He still missed his godfather terribly, but in the last year, as he began to mature, he realized that Sirius could never be the father Harry desperately wanted him to be. Nor could Harry fill the crater carved into Sirius' heart by James' death.

"Um, Potter? The door?"

"Sorry Remus. I'm on it." Harry stood up, closed his eyes, began pacing, and focused his mind. "_I need to find Ravenclaw's tiara. I need to find Ravenclaw's tiara. I need to find Ravenclaw's tiara."_ When Harry opened his eyes, he found himself staring at a blank patch of wall. "_So much for the direct approach_." Harry strained to remember the things he saw in the room when he had retrieved the potions book. "_What were the titles of those horrible books?"_ Harry searched his mind for a moment, closed his eyes, and began pacing. "_I need a copy of 'The Ritual Suicide'. I need a copy of 'The Ritual Suicide'. I need a copy of 'The Ritual Suicide'._ When Harry opened his eyes, he was greeted with a door. "_Bingo!_"

Harry's enthusiasm was short lived however, for when he opened the door, he and Remus stepped into the largest library either of them had ever seen. It had to be ten times the size of the one at Hogwarts. "Well, it was worth a shot." Harry said flatly.

"What were you thinking while you were pacing?" Remus queried.

"Well, first I thought of Ravenclaw's tiara, and nothing happened. The second time, I remembered the title of a book I had seen when I retrieved the potions book. I thought that might do it."

The door vanished when they had exited the room, and Remus stood silent in thought for a moment. "How did you initially find the room that the tiara was in Harry?"

"I thought to myself, 'I need a place to hide my book'."

"That may be the best approach then. Why not try, 'I need a place to hide my invisibility cloak'?"

Harry nodded, and began pacing. "_I need a place to hide my invisibility cloak. I need a place to hide my invisibility cloak. I need a place to hide my invisibility cloak."_ When Harry opened his eyes, he was once again greeted by a door. Harry hoped it was the right room this time. The minute they walked through the door, Harry shouted "Yes!"

Remus immediately shushed him. "This is supposed to be a stealth mission, remember?"

"Sorry, I got carried away." Harry led Remus through the maze of broken furniture and illicit items until they reached the acid scarred cabinet that the statue of the warlock sat upon. "Well, this is it." Harry stated grimly, looking up at the tarnished tiara.

"Are you sure that it is what you think it is?"

"We'll find out soon enough." Before Remus could stop him, Harry drew his wand and cast the spell Hermione had taught him. "Aperio Malusmagus!" The tiara radiated a sickly blackish-red light, as the acrid smell of burning flesh filled the room. Both men instinctively covered their mouths and turned away as the fetid stench burned at their nostrils. "I'd say it's the real deal." Harry choked out from under his hand.

Remus, looking alarmed, pointed his wand at Harry, and choked out "Bullae Capitalis!" An airtight bubble appeared around Harry's head. Remus reached for his throat as he began to suffocate

Harry began to panic. He pointed his wand at Remus' head. "Bully Catapilis!" Remus dropped to the floor, eyes bulging out of their sockets, his hands clutching at his throat. "Sir! The incantation! What is it?" Remus couldn't answer him. His face had turned dark purple and he started foaming at the mouth. "Bully... Bulla... Damn it!" Remus was dying... painfully. Not knowing what else to do, Harry turned his wand back towards the tiara, and in a fit of desperation, screamed, "Reducto!"

When the jet of light from Harry's wand hit the tiara, a blinding explosion of sickly purple light filled the room, followed by a piercing scream that seemed to shake the entire castle. The towers of furniture and books collapsed onto themselves in response. Vials were sent crashing to the floor, their noxious contents eating away at whatever they touched. Harry dove on top of Remus and shouted "Protego!" The shield went up in just enough time as a large cabinet bounced harmlessly away from Harry's head. When the avalanche of illicit items had finally settled, Harry looked down at Remus, who was gasping for breath, as his face returned to its normal color. "Remus! Please tell me you're okay! I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have-"

Remus nodded at Harry, signaling that he was all right. When he had finally stopped coughing, he looked up at Harry and panted, "If you ever... do that again... I will personally... put you in a full body bind... and owl you to Voldemort."

The two men sat silently amongst the rubble, contemplating what had just taken place. Harry was ecstatic. He had destroyed another one of the damned things, and more importantly, he destroyed the one that had been a mystery. He now knew what the rest of them were. The locket, the cup, and the snake.

Remus wanted to be happy, but something was gnawing at him. "_Why would Voldemort go through all the trouble of housing his soul in something that could be destroyed with a simple Reductor Curse? _It just didn't make sense. It was, well, it was just too damned easy. Surely, Voldemort would have protected a piece of his own soul more diligently than that. Surely, it should have been harder than that to destroy.

He stood up and cautiously wound his way through the rubble until he reached the spot where the tiara had been. After a few minutes of searching, he found it lying amongst battered cabinets and tattered books. He took a breath, and slowly reached for it, _"Merlin! Please let me be wrong about this!"_ Before he had even brought the thing to eye level, he knew he wasn't wrong. Remus Lupin had never regretted being right this much in his life. The tiara showed exactly where Harry's '_Reductor'_ had hit it. There was a small crack down its center in the shape of a lightning bolt.


End file.
